


Masterpiece

by staunchly_anonymous



Category: Free!, Free! Iwatobi Swim Club - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Burlesque Club, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Burlesque, Eventual Sex, M/M, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-14 20:42:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1278271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staunchly_anonymous/pseuds/staunchly_anonymous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people only strip at Freestyle!.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. no.1

He’d never been to this place before, but it seemed like a good time to start. Rin had been wandering the city aimlessly all night, feeling listless and out of place – Japan was just _weird_ after all this time. A friend had promised him that this was the area he should try first, though. Why had he ever listened? In the end he’d ducked inside a club after seeing signage for “boylesque” night. It was a little classier than the places he’d been to in Australia, for which he was remotely grateful.

Freestyle! didn’t seem to be a normal, run-of-the-mill strip club – or rather, they seemed to have certain nights that were burlesque nights, devoted to something other than pole dancing and regular American-style stripping. Burlesque was about the art, the tease, the story. It was intriguing and different, and the burlesque nights always drew a nice crowd. The MC thanked the crowd for coming to ‘Boylesque’ night, and Rin ordered a Guinness with a shot of Chambord in it.

The first performer was a well-built blond with long legs and a wide smile. He performed to an old American Mowtown hit, likely solely for the innuendo inherent in the song’s lyrics – ‘do the jerk, baby’? He was making impressive tips, though. Both men and women attended, and the blond’s infectious smile and perky attitude were earning him quite a bit. He sent his hat flying out into the audience and handed one of his sock garters to a man at the table one over from Rin’s. He seemed to be having fun. As he slid out of his shirt and grinned in the direction of Rin’s table, the redhead sighed. The man was attractive enough. He wasn’t quite Rin’s type, but… so far, so good, with this ‘boylesque’ business.

The second performer, though – pale skin, dark hair, lean frame – now this was more Rin’s type. He wore all white and moved across the stage with a liquid sort of perfection. His music was more languid, fitting his placid expression. At first it was unclear what he was doing, but as he picked up the first small bottle from the easel to his right and upended it near his collarbone, inky blue liquid flowed down the side of his shirt, sticking it to his skin. He slid a hand down his ribcage, following the flow of water and allowing the fabric to stick. The next bottle was red, then yellow, each one poured precisely, each one allowing the fabric to reveal just a little more of the figure beneath. Once the shirt dripped of its own accord, he peeled it off, one button after the other, slowly inching it up his torso. As he shrugged it off, he turned around, looking over his shoulder as he dropped the shirt onto the stage.

The next bottle contained thick paint. Tilting his head back, he drizzled a river of royal blue onto his chest as he twisted his hips and turned around again. One slender hand slid through the paint, streaking it down over a barely-covered nipple and onto his abdomen, where the color sank into the divots between taut muscles. Letting out an audible sigh, he picked up the next bottle and drizzled red over his shoulder. He ran his fingers through it, following the lines of his hips, sliding just under the waistband of his pants, popping the button. Hands ran back up his torso, gliding through the red and blue paint.

Rin could not take his eyes off him. He rolled his pants off slowly, trailing paint across pale skin. The whole routine was startlingly intimate, particularly in contrast with the one before. The performer sat on a chair, gracefully and slowly sliding out of one leg of the trousers. He traced a line of paint up to his thigh before peeling the other leg out of the cloth and kicking them away. Someone else in the audience wolf-whistled.

Those slender fingers slid down that pale thigh again and Rin sighed with the performer, heated eyes tracking his every move. When the man’s hand danced right along the lines of his crotch, Rin stood immediately, sliding money across the stage. The young man flicked his gaze up and outwards and the redhead could swear, for a moment, that their eyes locked. He swallowed, heat uncurling in his stomach. As the performer looked away, running his hands over his perfect, perfect skin and up along the hard lines of his body, Rin wondered if he knew him from somewhere. It was hard to think while watching him move and he couldn’t take his eyes off him. The show was over far too soon, ending with the young man streaked in paint and not much else. Rin was sorry to see him go.

The blond was back again, this time with a dark-haired bespectacled helper. The man in glasses wore a suit, a red tie, and a palpable air of nerves. A bouncy pop song about it being someone’s birthday played as the blond pushed his partner into a chair, grinning. He slid the knot in the tie down, slowly pulling it off the seated man’s neck and draping it about his own. Shirt buttons were next, each popped open with a flourish. The blond slid his body up the other man’s, grinning as he blushed behind his glasses. The audience cheered on his efforts, and when the blond straddled the businessman’s lap the wolf-whistler was at it again. The whole routine was long enough for Rin to finish his drink and order another. While waiting at the bar he quietly inquired about house rates for private time. The bartender informed him that the manager handled dance requests at Freestyle! and pointed out where Rin could go to make his requests.

A bathtub graced the stage when the lights came back up, old-fashioned and European with its clawed feet. The black curtain remained closed, but soon the dark-haired performer peeked out, emerging from the folds of fabric wearing a filmy blue robe. Slow jazz music began to play as he sauntered toward the tub, turning his back to the audience and sinuously twisting with the music. The light filtered through the fabric of the robe, outlining his hips perfectly. He leaned and slid one side of the robe up, revealing a long, bare leg.

The leg disappeared inside the robe again as he looked over his shoulder before turning around, dragging the tie free from its knots. Rin leaned on the bar as he watched him, eyes wide. He took a drink as the performer dropped the robe from his shoulders, letting it roll down to the small of his back. He was lean and long and sinuous. His skin gleamed with an almost pearly sheen in the light as the robe dropped. The man leaned over the tub, pulling his arm along inside. It came out wet and the wolf-whistler noticed. The performer gave a rare grin before sauntering behind the tub, sliding his hands along its edges. The front collapsed, revealing a clear tank of water. He dropped the last vestiges of clothing -- besides those required by law -- and trailed his fingers through the water again.

The tempo of the music changed as the young man swung a leg over the tub, gripping its edges with strong hands. Holding himself up on the edges he bent, dipping into the water. The young man slid into the tank, pushing himself into the water with a deliberate, smooth thrust of the hips. Rin felt himself blushing as he watched the young man take a sponge and lean back, showering himself with water. His nipples were covered with pale blue, but the Rin imagined them tightening as his own did in response. He had an ecstatic expression on his face as he undulated his hips and played in the water, and the more he poured water over himself the harder Rin’s dick was getting. It was embarrassing and titillating and he felt like he couldn’t breathe by the time the show was over. He ordered a hurricane and sat still for a while, unable to pay attention to the rest of the acts on stage.

Eventually the ‘boylesque’ series came to an end and the stage went back to a more typical strip-club atmosphere with a dancer on the pole. Rin found that this bored him, his mind drifting incessantly to the paint-and-water performer, whose face never appeared on stage again. It was enough to make up his mind and spend his money for him. He found the manager and made his request.

The VIP rooms were upstairs, and Rin was seriously questioning his resolve as he climbed them. Truth be told, Rin had never bought a lap dance before. A quick search on his smartphone told him that not much – if any – touching was actually allowed. What was the point, even? He stepped into one of the rooms to find it had mirrored walls and a single loveseat against the wall. Nothing else. Rin swallowed roughly and sat down. He should’ve had more to drink. Looking around the room just showed him images of himself over and over, and he began to have fifteenth thoughts.

The door opened and he stepped inside, letting it close gently behind him. The manager had called him ‘Shunga’, which was an odd name. Appropriate, but odd. It wasn’t his real name, of course – no one in strip club ever went by their real name. He was wearing a white shirt and black pants that could have, almost, been painted on.

“Hi,” Rin said, nervousness cooling the heat in his stomach. Somehow he hadn’t expected him to be so… clothed. Normal. He took a deep breath.

“Hi.” The performer stood between Rin’s legs, leaning his upper body forward until his palms pressed against the wall, hips tilted back. Rin bit his lip as the next song started, the performer’s hips already twisting. Rin’s heart was pounding so loudly he just knew the man could hear it, and he dug his nails into the fabric of the loveseat as Shunga turned, straddling him smoothly. He slid his index finger down Rin’s forearm. “Relax.”

“Right,” said Rin. That was easy, wasn’t it? The man backed off, dancing away from him a little. Did he think Rin needed space? Rin watched him with bright eyes, constantly noticing his legs. Shunga turned around, running his hands slowly down the back of his thighs. His return to where Rin was sitting was slow, sensual, freeing him of his shirt. The performer ran his hands over Rin’s chest, into his hair.  
“You’re so beautiful,” Rin said.  
In response he caught his hand and slid it up to his hip, an indication that he would allow Rin to touch him – a little. “Am I?” he said, voice husky and low, just next to Rin’s ear. He held his ass, feeling the hard muscles as the dancer continued to move.

Shunga leaned in to him and Rin gasped a little, his hips involuntarily twitching upwards as the performer’s crotch came so close to his own. The man lingered just near his lips for a moment as he ground against him and Rin could feel the heat of his breath before he pulled away, breaking the near-contact just as Rin was about to move. The next time he slid back up the Rin’s body, one hand on his chest, his breath just brushed the man’s ear and Rin couldn’t bite back his moan. He smelled of salt and the sea and sand, moving with crystalline grace.

In an instant it all became too much, too real, and Rin couldn’t handle it. He was magnificent, and when Rin leaned his head back, he caught sight of himself in the mirror, eyes wide and dark, skin flushed, Shunga moving in his lap up and down, up and down, reflected back over and over in the mirrored walls of the room. Rin gripped at the man’s hips before he could stop himself and Shunga didn’t stop moving, his rhythm a perfect match for Rin’s heartbeat and desire. He locked eyes with his reflection, gasping as he came, and the performer stopped dancing almost instantly.

He’d never been more embarrassed in his life. Rin let go of the man’s hips immediately, but Shunga didn’t say anything – why would he? He probably had seen a whole barrel full of men who hadn’t any self-control – but that somehow only served to make it worse. Rin paid him wordlessly, declining a second dance with a shake of his head. He had to get out of there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shunga (春画) is a Japanese term for erotic art. Most shunga are a type of ukiyo-e, usually executed in woodblock print format.
> 
> Freestyle is a real place, apparently. I don't think they actually have burlesque nights, though.
> 
> 'Masterpiece' is a Madonna song. You'll get it later -- or now, maybe, if you feel like taking yourself to Google.
> 
> The tub of water burlesque act is quite famous, made so by Lili St Cyr. The tradition continues; Dita Von Teese does a version of this with a martini glass.


	2. no.2

Rin was only at the art gallery opening because Gou was working and had demanded he show up to support her. She’d helped put together the exhibit and promised him that the art was worth it. A rising star, she’d said. Truly moving work, she’d said. _Make sure you dress nicely_ she’d said, as though he had no idea how to look coming to so nice a function. Rin ran a hand through his hair and hoped for free wine as he stepped through the door, teeth instantly on edge.

The paintings were incredibly beautiful. Standing in front of a canvas that was taller than he was, Rin gripped his glass of Shiraz and let it wash over him. It was dark and blue and intensely moving in a desperate and restless way, the paint thick and textured with hidden meaning. He looked down at the small tag next to the work. _Nanase Haruka, No.13. Oil on canvas._ Rin moved on after ten minutes of staring, and found the same soul-searching emotions in every piece he stopped in front of. All of them were numbered, not a single title in sight. He wondered, idly, what she must be like – the painter. As he turned around he paused, startled.

He’d know that slender form anywhere. Shunga, the exotic dancer from a week ago – he’d seen him constantly in his dreams, but what was he doing _here_? Rin couldn’t stop staring. The dark-haired man was somehow even more alluring in a dark grey suit than he was near-naked on stage. The lights sank into his hair, darkening the black to an almost midnight blue. His sister flitted past in her own best work suit, pausing to smile brightly at him, stealing his attention.

 

“Beautiful, right? What’d I tell you?” Her arm sweeps the room, gesturing proudly at her settings.

“Yeah, striking.” Rin tore his eyes away from Shunga and looked back at a painting. Though he hated to admit it, he agreed with his sister. “They’re incredible. Where’s the artist?”

“Oh, I thought you knew! You _were_ just staring at him –“ she pointed at the dancer and his friend. 

Him? _Nanase Haruka_. Rin read the name next to the painting again and then flicked his eyes over to where he stood, next to a tall and smiling man with large, brawny arms.

Nanase Haruka was a _man_.

 

“I’ll introduce you,” Gou said magnanimously, taking her brother by the arm. Before he had time to protest, Rin was standing right in front of a man he’d had his hands all over just days before. The flat expression on Haruka's face didn’t change.

“This is my brother, Matsuoka Rin.” Gou’s voice, bright and professional, ticked Rin’s muscle memory into a polite bow.

“Nice to see you again,” he said, hoping dearly that his face was not the same shade as his hair.

Haruka raised an eyebrow, and the taller man looked from him to Rin and back. “Oh – do you know each other?”

Rin said ‘yes’ at the same moment as Haruka said ‘no’.

“ _Oh_ ,” said his friend, “I see.”

Gou looked between the men for a moment, trying to let the pieces fall into place. “… And this is Tachibana Makoto-san,” she continued, breaking the moment of quiet, unable to figure it out.

“Nice to meet you,” Tachibana said.

Rin bowed. He didn’t much care for the eyes he was making at his sister.

Gou didn’t seem to mind. She smiled at Makoto, setting a hand on his arm. “Tachibana-san went to school with Nanase-san.”

“I help organize events and things for Haru,” Makoto said. “We were very fortunate to have your sister’s help with this space.”

The corners of Rin’s mouth turned down. Very fortunate to have his sister’s help in _deed_!

Haruka sighed softly, looking to the side with half-lidded eyes. Makoto went to fetch him a glass of wine and Gou went with him, both of them chatting easily about the space and the paintings and how work was going. Rin stared at Haruka, unsure of what to say. Haruka did not seem inclined to say anything at all.

 

The silence was getting unnerving. “I didn’t know you were an artist.” Rin rubbed the back of his neck.

Haruka looked back to Rin. “Of course I’m an artist,” he said, ticking his head to the side to swish heavy hair out of his face. It was as if he were asking what else on Earth he could possibly be. 

_Right, of course you are_ , Rin thought. He was too beautiful for his own good, and for the life of him Rin could not stop thinking about having him in his lap. There was such a disconnect between the sensual person he remembered seeing on stage and the quiet, off-putting man in front of him now. He couldn’t reconcile the two, not quite, and his curiosity was cutting. “Can I buy you dinner?” he asked, and then cursed himself. What was he thinking?

Unreadable eyes blinked at him for a moment before Haruka lifted a shoulder in a noncommittal shrug.

“I don’t know what that means,” said Rin.

Haruka was already turning away to answer a summons from his friend, disinterest frank in his posture. There wasn’t enough time to ask him everything Rin wanted, and the man seemed so… closed off. It was frustrating.

“Oh, come on! It’s just dinner,” he said.

“I didn’t say no.” Haru looked back over his shoulder.

Makoto was now staring at them both.

 

Groaning, Rin watched him go and downed the last of his wine in one gulp. Maybe he’d go back to the club to see him. Rin imagined a lot of scenarios and not a single one of them was very pleasant. But maybe, if he bought a dance, he could get him to talk to him a little more. _He didn’t say no_ , but he hadn’t exactly said yes, either. 

Rin spent the rest of his night connecting the stars in Haruka’s paintings and wondering why on Earth he was dancing like **that** when he could create imagery like **this**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boring plot chapter is boring. More skin later.


	3. no.3

Going back to Freestyle! was right in the middle of Rin’s list of things he’d rather never do again, right under going back to Australia and just before eating a whole ghost pepper on a dare. He stepped into the club with no little trepidation, prepared this time with a healthy viewing of porn and the company of his right hand ahead of time. His hair was back in a low ponytail and he had made sure _not_ to bring enough money to actually pay for much beyond a drink or two.

 

No repeat of last time, he’d promised himself. As he showed his identification, however, he was surprised to hear that a seat was already arranged for him. It was a table close to the stage, much closer than he’d been before – and someone had supplied a glass of wine for him, too. Rin sighed, sitting down and crossing his arms. The wine was pinot noir that smelled vaguely of cherry.

 

It wasn’t a burlesque night. The poles were presently being used by the brightly smiling blond and an unfamiliar young man with brown hair. Rin didn’t see Haruka anywhere. He wondered, vaguely, how the other man had known he was coming. After all, how else would he have had a table reserved?

 

The lights went down and the MC announced ‘Shunga’ just before a smooth, sensually steady beat started to play. Blue light shifted on and Rin could see a figure at the base of the pole, barely moving to the music. As more lights came up, the figure slid up the pole, sinuously thrusting against its height.

 

He was wearing tall blue platform heels that lengthened already long legs and as he faced the pole and bent, the angle was perfection, peeking out from an oversized, flowing black shirt. His hips pushed back, curving the spine and rolling the backs of bare thighs out towards the audience, the curves of his ass just visible in a pair of tight black shorts. Rin’s ears were as red as his hair as he watched Haruka’s hips twist first one way and then another, and as much as he wanted to, he found himself unable to look away when the dancer looked over one shoulder, right at Rin.

 

The dancer spun, leaning back against the pole and drawing his legs together as his hands stroked over his thighs and up along his stomach, lifting the hem of the shirt to reveal hard muscle. His thumb slid under the fabric, pulling it up to a nipple before letting it fall again, hips swaying. He crossed his arms and caught the shirt with his fingers, peeling it up and over his head to let drop to the side. A heeled foot kicked the garment away as hands caressed bare skin, sliding down the lines of his body. He rubbed down against the pole, tilting his head back in what looked like ecstasy. Slender fingers caressed the pole before Haruka hooked a knee around it, inching up.

 

So much for coming prepared. Rin shifted in his seat, embarrassed at the insistence of his physical reaction to Haruka’s movements. He _wanted_ him. More than that, he wanted to get to _know_ him – because the vivid memory of his paintings lingered in the front of his mind, next to scent of his skin and the feel of his hands in his hair.

 

Bending back away from the pole, he held on with only those impossible thighs, arms outstretched. Rin’s drink sat forgotten in his hands as he stared while Haruka spiraled down the pole to the floor, where he ran his hands over his sides and just along the jut of his hipbones. He rolled onto one side, stretching a leg up before rolling the rest of the way over onto his stomach, the light sinking into his musculature. Head coming up first, he sat back, rolling his head around to the side, eyes catching Rin’s, before arching all the way back over bent knees to rest on his back.

 

Spine curving again he began to sit up, shoulders moving with the music. Haruka pulled one leg up underneath of him into a crouch, bringing his body upright. He slid a hand down his side, hooking it underneath the waistband of his shorts before he brought the other leg under him, running his hands up to his knees. Pushing his hips back he stood up and stepped toward the pole again. As he moved around the pole, leaning against it, his hands explored the planes of his lean body. He bent forward again with wide spread legs, head dropping to the floor. Looking over his shoulder, he caught Rin’s eye again as he slid his hand up the full length of a leg as he rose to standing again.

 

Rin watched ‘Shunga’ take hold of the pole with his hands and spin around, lifting his body sideways, bending his knees and arching his spine into a perfect curve as he continuously rotated around the pole. One knee wrapped around the pole and the other bent, toes of the glimmering blue heels meeting in a perfect kiss just above his hair as Haruka spun around the pole, inverted.

 

He landed perfectly on one foot, spinning away from the pole for a bare second before he was on it again, body continuously moving. The spins were timed perfectly with the music, and there was a fluidity to his movements that would not be denied. The intimacy of his burlesque performance, somehow, carried over to his pole dancing. As Rin watched Haruka pull his fingers through his dark hair and slide his body around the pole again, it felt like they were the only two men in the club and Haruka was dancing for him and him alone. He ended with his back to the pole again, moving slowly around it as if it were a lover, circling his hips.

 

As Rin let out a heated breath, the lights covered Haruka’s exit from the stage. He sat through two other dancers, biding his time, but nowhere in the crowd did he see Haruka. Finally, once his wine glass was well and truly empty, he gave up on the idea that perhaps Haruka would come to him.

 

Rin arranged a dance with the manager. It was the only assurance he could possibly have of Haruka’s undivided attention, of his time. He should have known he’d have to pay to talk to the man. As he climbed the stairs to the mirrored rooms, Rin sternly told himself that there would be no touching and that he’d ask him not to _actually_ dance on his lap this time.

 

Sitting on the loveseat, Rin crossed his arms and waited. He refused to get comfortable and tried to avoid looking at himself in the mirror. When Haruka entered he found Rin with both arms _and_ legs crossed, eyebrows drawn together, frowning. Though he was still wearing his heels, Haruka had put the shirt from his act back on, at least.

 

“Hi,” said Rin.

“Hi.” It was a repeat already. He moved toward the seated man, but Rin put a hand up immediately.

“Can’t you just, you know. Sit with me and talk?”

Haruka raised a brow. “Talk?” It was clearly not his specialty. He put a hand on his hip, leaning his weight on his left leg. Rin’s ears heated with another blush, eyes wide.

 

“Yeah.” Rin uncrossed his legs, about to say something else, but Haruka crossed the small space between them quickly and sat on his lap before he had the chance.

“Sit with you, right?” he said.

Technically, yes. That is what Rin said. “Uh—“ The heat of Haruka’s skin soaked quickly into Rin’s consciousness.

“Matsuoka-san, isn’t it?”

He swallowed. “Rin’s fine.”

Saying nothing else, Haruka shifted his weight a little and slid a hand along Rin’s shoulder. Rin swallowed again and waited.

 

In fact, he waited for two entire minutes. He sighed. “You know, I thought the artist was a girl, reading the name.”

Tilting his head, Haruka stared at him. “I get that a lot.”

“Haruka **is** a girl’s name.”

“Rin’s a girl’s name, too,” he said, stretching a leg out and turning his foot first one way and then another, watching the platform heel sparkle in the low light.

“Yeah…”

 

Rin shivered as Haruka ran his fingers through his hair again. “What was the song?”

“Sorry?” He tilted his head to the left.

“Tonight, the song.”

“Oh.” He let his fingers trail gently down the back of Rin’s neck. “Closer, Kings of Leon. Why?”

“It was – Can you stop that?” Rin pulled his head away, frowning.

Haruka pulled his hand away, setting it back on Rin’s shoulder for a moment before standing again. A Nine Inch Nails song filtered in through speakers and he moved slowly to it, twisting his hips back and forth. “You just don’t want me to touch you, right?”

 

Haruka’s idea of not touching Rin seemed to involve a lot of touching himself instead. Rin took a deep breath, trying to think about something, anything else. He settled on how many reps and sets he’d have to do of which exercise in the morning and with how much weight –

“Am I boring you?” Haruka asked, placing a hand on the back of the sofa and leaning in. Their foreheads almost touched like this, and Rin took in a sharp breath. Haruka’s eyes were impossibly blue.

“I really just want to have dinner,” Rin said, scooting as far back into the loveseat as possible.

            “Is that a euphemism?” Haruka bent his right knee and placed it next to Rin, both hands now on the back of the loveseat.

            “Of course not, you bastard!” Rin grit his teeth, thinking about doing pushups.

 

            Haruka’s eyebrows rose for a moment before he sighed, turning his head away. He stood back up, turning around and walking toward the door, pulling his arms over his head. As he gripped his elbows in a stretch, the hem of his shirt rose a little, revealing a stripe of skin. Rin leaned forward.

            “Fine, whatever,” said Haruka, not turning back around. “You’re annoying.”

            “Tomorrow?” Rin stood up, reaching the door before Haruka could step out. In those shoes, he was taller than Rin, but not faster. “We can have dinner and go dancing.”

            “I’m already dancing.”

            “Yeah, but tomorrow you’ll be dancing with _me_.” Rin grinned and tucked a piece of paper inside the neckline of Haruka’s shirt. “See you tomorrow. Text me your address.”

            Putting a hand up to catch the paper before it hit the floor, Haruka let out a soft “tch” noise as Rin exited the room first.

 

            Rin waited to get outside the club before pumping a fist in the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to spacerat for edits.


	4. no.4

Throwing his phone across his living room, Rin swore. He’d worked all morning, coming home to eat something and get his things ready for practice, and Haruka still hadn’t sent him his address! In fact, he had no idea what Haruka’s phone number even was, because he hadn’t texted him at all. Rin flung himself down on his sofa, letting one leg drape over the armrest as he laid his arm across his eyes.  
“Why am I even bothering with this?” He groaned, aware that talking to oneself was supposedly a sign of madness. Sexual madness, maybe.

The chime of his text tone almost knocked him off the sofa. Sitting bolt upright, Rin immediately got up, grabbing his phone from the floor and entering the passcode.  
Giving an address and a time, the text indicated that it was from Nanase Haruka and gave absolutely no other information. After saving the number, Rin tried sending a flirty reply. The phone sat silent for two minutes before he walked away from it.  
A change of clothes and half of a TV show later, Rin checked his phone to find… nothing. He rolled his eyes, leaving his phone at home as he left for swimming.

Several hours later found Rin walking in an older neighborhood, phone in hand, looking for the correct building number. Haruka’s apartment building was an old style, just like the area – but he found it easily enough. Rin pressed the buzzer and waited.  
And waited.  
He pressed it again, tapping the toe of his left shoe against the ground. Nothing! “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, digging his cell phone out of his pocket and double-checking the address.  
After he rang a _third_ time, Haruka opened the door, a smudge of pale grey paint lingering just beneath his left eye. “Oh,” he said. “It’s you.” He was wearing a pair of paint-covered jeans and a plain white t-shirt.  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rin slid his phone into his back pocket. His nose wrinkled at the scent of turpentine.  
“I lost track of time, I guess.” Haruka turned away from the door, beckoning Rin inside.

Stepping in, Rin kicked off his shoes before following Haru through the tidy house. Music filtered out of the back room, and as they drew nearer the turpentine scent intensified. Rin coughed.  
“Oh,” Haru said again, looking at him. “Sorry.” He opened a window as Rin stepped into the room.  
A pole stood in the center, and beyond it canvases of varying size and shape, some empty and some not. Haru stood in front of one, staring intently at the swirling grey on its surface.  
Rin peeked over his shoulder. “What is it?”  
Blue eyes cut sideways as Haru let out a faint puff of air. “Oil paint,” he said.  
“God, you’re annoying,” Rin groaned, looking at the canvas to his left. This one looked like a liquid sunrise poured over broken glass. “So you just… paint? All the time?”  
One shoulder lifted in the barest of shrugs. Haru leaned towards his canvas, dragging his finger through some of the paint. Minutes dragged on as he applied more paint to the canvas, eyes tracking over the work.

“Hey, remember that one time,” said Rin, “when I asked you to have dinner with me and you said fine, whatever? Because that was supposed to be today.” He stood directly behind Haruka and stared at the painting again. A few minutes passed before Rin shook his head. What was it about the pieces that made them so mesmerizing? “Come on.”  
Turning around, Haruka ran directly into him, their toes colliding. “Ah—where are we going?”  
Rin named off a restaurant, a nice enough place, and watched as Haruka worried his lower lip with his teeth for a moment. “What?”  
“That’s too much work,” he said.  
Rin blinked. “Too much work?”  
“Too much work.”  
“So what, you want to just… I don’t know, eat ramen or something?” This was unbelievable. How was it possible for one person to be so vastly different one day to the next? The Nanase Haruka in front of Rin now was nothing like the exotic dancer he’d seen just the night before.  
He shrugged.

Rin threw his head back, looking at the ceiling. “All right,” he said. “Get changed, Haruka-san.”  
The corner of his mouth quirked down. “Don’t put –san on Haruka,” he said, going up the stairs.  
“No?” Rin grinned, following. “Haruka, then.”  
“Stay down there, Matsuoka.”  
“How about this: I’ll say Haru. You can say Rin.” He stopped on the stairway, leaning against the wall. What a grumpy guy...  
The sounds of Haru moving around in what Rin assumed was his bedroom were very soft. Once Haru had reappeared in miraculously paint-free reddish jeans and a shirt with a dolphin on it, they went to his door. He pulled on a blue jacket with white sleeves and they left the apartment building. Rin linked his fingers together behind his head as they walked. “Is that really a dolphin on your shirt?” He laughed a little. “Are you a teenage girl?” It even had his name on it.  
“I like dolphins,” Haru said, glancing down at the animal.  
For whatever reason, Rin found his mouth stretching into a grin as they walked.

In the end, they sat down in an izakaya and Rin ordered a beer while Haru asked for water. He ordered grilled mackerel almost immediately, while Rin took his time looking over the menu before ordering a pork katsu bowl. As they ate, Haru stared at him, the grey paint below his eye chalky and light.  
“You have paint on your face,” Rin said, tapping a finger below his left eye. “Just there. Did you know?”  
Haru shrugged, tossing his hair out of his eyes and making no move to dislodge the paint. The zeal with which he consumed his mackerel raised Rin’s brow. Perhaps Haru forgot to eat when he was busy, too.  
“We can still go dancing, right? Or is that –“ he hooked his fingers into quotation marks – “’too much work’?”  
Haru shrugged. “I like dancing.”  
Letting out a sigh, Rin finished his food with as little fuss as possible.  
“What do you do?”  
“Huh?” Rin paused with a piece of meat halfway to his mouth. “Me? I swim.”  
“You… swim.”  
“Yeah. Well –“ It was strictly true, but not the whole story. “I work a part-time job and I swim the rest of the time.”  
“Competitively?”  
Rin shrugged. “Yeah.”  
Haru leaned his chin in his hand. “Are you an Olympic hopeful?”  
“Well… yeah.” He paused. “What, you don’t think I could get there?” Rin set his bowl down.  
“I didn’t say that.” Setting an empty bowl onto the table, Haru let his eyes follow Rin’s figure for a moment.  
“Look, let’s just go dancing.” Rin got out his wallet.  
“I’ll pay.” Haru slid money across the table.  
“I really can pay,” said Rin.  
“I didn’t say you couldn’t.” He was standing already, clearly ready to go and not waiting for Rin to argue any more about the bill.

Walking down the street, Rin kept glancing at Haru. He was looking straight ahead in a rather detached, dreamy manner. “Where are we going?”  
Rattling off the name of a club Rin didn’t recognize, Haru led the way.  
They found themselves in a club with loud, syncopated music and plenty of patrons on the floor. Haru looked around before leaning in so Rin could hear him. “Drink or dance?”  
“Uh – I –“ Rin swallowed, inching away from Haru’s lips. His ear tingled from the near-touch. He noticed that Haru’s eyes stayed on the dance floor. “Dance.”  
They went out at the start of the next song, and Rin hoped desperately that he was as good at dancing as he remembered. He hadn’t been out dancing in a while.

Haru, on the other hand, showed no reticence whatsoever on the floor. He circled his waist, leaning slightly to the left. Rin copied the motion, leaning to the right. Haru turned around, lacing his fingers together behind Rin’s neck. Bending his knees he ground away from Rin, leaning back.  
Rin bit his lower lip, letting out a puff of air. Close, far away. Would he not just make up his mind? Gripping at Haru’s hips, he stayed with him, trying to focus on the beat of the song as the DJ spun it into a new one.  
Haru’s mind didn’t seem to be very focused on Rin at all. He arched his back, dipping at the knee to swing his hips to the right, then left. Trying not to stare, Rin danced close enough to ensure they were together, but not too close, staying with Haru’s movement. The third song ended and Rin realized he still hadn’t managed to get much closer to Haru at all.  
“I need a drink,” Rin said, pulling away from him. It was hot and his hair stuck to the back of his neck. He left the floor and went to the bar, asking for water.

Haru followed him and sat down at an empty table close to the dancefloor, shrugging out of his jacket and leaning his chin in his hand. He looked the same as when they’d come in, and not at all like he needed a break. As Rin came to the table with a glass of water for each of them, he was surprised to see Haru talking to someone else. Someone wearing… glitter.  
“Come _on_ Haru-chan, I saw you dancing earlier – you _never_ come out dancing with me, it’s just one song!” the voice was young and cute, whining at Haru. It was the blond from the strip club, draped over Haru’s shoulder.  
“Hi,” said Rin, sitting down and pushing a glass across the table.  
“Hi!”  
“Hazuki Nagisa,” Haru said, gesturing with a free hand. His expression placid, he took the glass of water and lifted it to his lips.  
“I was just telling Haru-chan that you wouldn’t mind if he dances with me, right?” Hazuki grinned, cardigan sliding off one shoulder. “What’s your name, anyway?”  
“Matsuoka Rin. Is that glittery eye shadow on your face?”  
“Rin-chan!” he said, eyes sparkling. He ignored the comment about the glitter. “That’s perfect, what a girly name! Listen, you don’t mind if—“  
“ _Rin-chan_?!”  
“Yeah, Rin-chan.” He waved a hand, dismissing the objection. “Like I said, you don’t mind if I dance with Haru-chan, do you? Just until my boyfriend gets here, okay?” He tugged at Haru’s wrist, still smiling.  
“Whatever, _Nagisa_ ,” Rin said, crossing his arms. Haru sat in his chair with loose, relaxed posture, aimlessly watching people dance. He made no effort to indicate his preference for dance partners. In fact, it was hard for Rin to tell if Haru even wanted anything at all. He sighed. “Fine. Go ahead. Have fun.”

After saying something in a waitress’s ear, Nagisa dragged Haru from his chair. The two of them stepped out onto the dance floor as a bright, dance-y pop tune blared from the speakers. Rin sighed, leaning back in his chair and pressing his water glass to his forehead. So far, this date was... confusing. He couldn’t tell if Haru liked him at all or was just barely tolerating his presence.  
Haru and Nagisa were already as close as he’d been able to get in a few songs. Nagisa had an arm wound about Haru’s neck, their bodies waving in and out of perfectly timed motions on beat with the music. One hand hung back, loose in the movement, until Haru rolled his hips and Nagisa brought that hand up to pull them close. Their bodies rolled together as Nagisa dropped lower to the floor, Haru's hands on his ass. Rin grit his teeth as he watched them.

The waitress set a large shot glass in front of him, filled with a clear red liquid. “From your friend,” she said, jerking her head toward Nagisa, “enjoy.”  
“What is this?” Rin turned the glass around in his fingers.  
She laughed. “It’s a red-headed slut.”  
“W—“ the girl, still laughing, got away from him before Rin could send the damn drink back with her. He shot what he hoped was a withering glare in Nagisa’s direction, but there was absolutely no chance he saw it.  
What a dick.  
Picking up the glass, Rin sighed before knocking the entire contents back into his mouth. It tasted like cranberry, mostly, with a peachy sweetness and the burn of licorice in the back of his throat. Rin swallowed a second time in distaste and then took a drink of his water, eyes going back to Haru and Nagisa.

Nagisa’s arms were up, moving with the music as he danced with his back pressed almost to Haru’s chest. As Haru took hold of Nagisa’s hips and slowed their dancing down Rin doubted he’d be able to slip even a sheet of paper between them. His grip on his glass tightened as their movements started to look a little less like dancing and a little more like sex. Haru dropped them lower, knees widening, one arm falling behind him as he pressed his hips against Nagisa’s ass.  
Letting Nagisa take him away had definitely been a bad idea. Rin put a hand on the back of his chair, ready to go cut in, when someone pulled out the seat beside him.

“Pardon me, is anyone sitting here?” The voice was clipped and proper, and upon inspection Rin saw… a regular businessman?  
“I’m kind of busy,” he said. “And I’m here with someone.”  
Nagisa reached back, sliding his hand around Haru’s thigh. The newcomer frowned, his eyes also on the dancefloor. “Nagisa-kun told me he was at this table. I apologize for the inconvenience—“  
“Wait, you _know_ that guy?”  
Pushing his glasses up, the businessman sighed and sat down. “I do. I apologize, I should introduce myself – I’m Ryuugazaki Rei.”  
“Matsuoka Rin.” He sat back in his chair. “And your boyfriend stole my date.”  
“You’re here with Haruka-san?” Rin noticed he didn’t bother to deny that Nagisa was his boyfriend.  
“Why do you sound so surprised?”

Rei lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “He doesn’t usually have company. In fact, I haven’t seen him here in quite some time.”  
“He’s a weird guy, isn’t he?”  
“Haruka-san is quite brilliant,” Rei said. “Excuse me, I’d like to get a drink. Would you like anything?”  
Rin waved a hand. “No, thanks. I’m fine.” After that horrid shooter, he planned to stick to water. It was a safer bet considering he had practice tomorrow, anyway.  
Shooting a glance at Nagisa once more, Rei left for the bar, leaving Rin to stare at Haru alone. The song was ending, for which he found himself eternally grateful.  
Nagisa dragged Haru back to their table at the same moment Rei returned, carrying one glass that looked like a plain man’s chuhai and another glass full of some bright blue substance with a cherry in it. This he set in front of Nagisa, frowning. “You didn’t wait for me, Nagisa-kun.”  
“Rei-chan!”

Haru sat next to Rin. The skin on the back of his neck glistened faintly with sweat.  
Rin pushed his water glass over. “Having fun? Can I get you anything?”  
“Gin and tonic,” Haru said, before lifting Rin’s water glass to his lips. Rin tried not to think childish thoughts about indirect kisses, but it didn’t work. Nagisa and Rei looked at each other, and Rei raised a brow. Rin raised his brow in return. “What?”  
“Nothing,” said Nagisa.  
Rubbing the back of his neck, Rin went to the bar and ordered for Haru – and himself. In order to get through the rest of the night, he needed to bolster his spirits. With spirits, obviously; sticking to water wasn’t doing the job.  
When he returned, he handed over the glass. Haru took it, taking a drink before setting it down, a faint frown creasing his eyebrows.

“Wrong gin, huh?” Nagisa leaned his elbow on the table, grinning.  
“I’ll fix it,” Haru said, standing.  
“What – you don’t like it? What’s wrong with it?” Rin had ordered a gin and tonic, just like Haru said.  
“It’s not –  
“Bombay Sapphire,” said Nagisa and Rei, in unison with Haru though looking at each other.  
Rin blinked as Haru stepped away with his glass, heading straight for the bar.  
“I should’ve warned you, Matsuoka-san,” Rei said, “I apologize. Haruka-san doesn’t drink anything else.”  
“Oh, he doesn’t care. He’ll get over it.” Nagisa waved a hand at Rei, dismissing the comment about Haru’s gin choices before leaning over, looking at Rin’s glass. “What’s yours?”  
Rin swirled the pink-tinged liquid. “It’s a hurricane,” he said, watching Haru lean one hand on the bar, shoulders cocked to the right.  
Nagisa tilted his head, contemplating the beverage. “Is it sweet?”  
“Vaguely,” said Rin.  
“Like you.” Nagisa smiled.  
Rin frowned. He was not _sweet_.

Rin leaned back in his chair, vaguely listening to Nagisa ask Rei about his day and try to persuade him to dance. Haru returned with a new glass and sat next to him, drinking without comment. In fact, he didn’t really say a single word until his glass was empty – and when he did speak, it was only to ask Rin to dance with him again.

It took three songs before they were dancing truly close to each other, bodies touching. The worn fabric of Haru’s jeans was thinner than Rin realized, and as he ran his hands over his thighs, he pulled them closer together. They both deepened the bend in their knees at the same time, hips circling slower. Haru finally leaned into Rin, his skin hot through the thin fabric of his t-shirt.  
A hand brushed up around his head, pulling down through his hair, faintly caressing the side of his face as Haru swiveled with the music, a sinuous ‘S’ shape. His lips parted as he pulled in a breath, obviously more affected by their dancing together than he was by dancing alone. The sigh was faint, but Rin heard it all the same. He wanted to kiss him.  
Rin pushed his hips forward, gripping Haru’s. He hadn’t meant for their dancing to be so flagrantly sexual, but it seemed like Haru didn’t really dance any other way. By the time the song was over, he’d definitely need to go sit down for a minute – somewhere not touching Haru. Despite his physical conditioning, he really wasn’t used to dancing for long periods of time. The hurricane probably hadn’t helped. 

Rin checked his watch as the music cycled to a slower song. “It’s getting late,” he said.  
“Is it?” Haru wound his arms around Rin’s neck again.  
“Maybe we should go,” Rin said.  
“Am I making you nervous?” Haru took Rin’s hand and pressed it into the small of his back, intertwining the fingers of their free hands. “Here.” He slid his arm along the slope of Rin’s shoulder, resting it gently along the curve. The tips of his fingers barely brushed the nape of Rin’s neck.  
“I’m not nervous,” Rin said.  
The song was slow, romantic, and this time Haru’s dancing was much softer. It felt nothing like their dancing before, was certainly more conservative. Rin let out a quiet breath, curving his fingers gently against the skin of Haru’s hand. Soft pressure sent shivers down his spine as Haru splayed his fingers gently along his upper back.  
Rin curled their hands toward his chest, the space between their bodies closing with each step. As they twirled slowly on the floor, Rin could make out the dark length of Haru’s lashes, the faint catches in his breath. A bare centimeter’s movement of the head brought his lips within inches of Haru’s cheekbone. Haru leaned his head down a little and Rin’s nose touched his forehead. Haru’s breath grazed over his collarbone, unfolding a dizzying warmth in his abdomen.  
Tilting his head, Rin almost brought their lips together, but Haru glanced up, lips parted. Their eyes caught and Rin smiled softly, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks. The song was almost over.  
“You’re right,” Haru murmured as the song fizzled out into its last few notes, “we should go.”  
Rin tried to catch his breath. “Okay,” he said.  
“I paid the tab,” said Haru, leaving the dancefloor and retrieving his jacket. 

The air outside was light with a breeze after the close heat of the club. Haru stretched his arms up over and behind his head, left hand gripping the right upper arm as they walked. His face was as placid as it had been hours ago when he opened his door.  
Rin rubbed his upper arms, feeling gooseflesh break out from the chill of the night air.  
Haru held his jacket out to Rin. “Here,” he said.  
“Aren’t you cold?”  
“No,” he said.  
Rin took the garment, shrugging into it quickly. It was still warm with Haru’s body heat, smelling faintly of leather and paint thinner and lavender soap. He ran his finger over one of the cuffs. “Thanks.”  
They walked in silence back toward Haru’s building. Rin slid his hands into the pockets of the jacket while Haru, unaffected by the weather, looked at the stars. When they reached his building, he let Rin step inside first.

Rin waited to reach Haru’s door before pulling his hands back out, flexing the fingers. “I had a nice time,” he said, slowly working his arm out of Haru’s jacket. “Thanks again for letting me use your jacket.” He waited for Haru to unlock his door before handing it to him.  
“…. That’s it? Are you serious?” Haru took the jacket.  
“Huh?” Rin took a step back.  
Letting out a soft sigh, Haru frowned and turned his head to the right, looking away.  
“I don’t –-"

After closing the distance between them, Haru slid a hand around the back of Rin’s neck, pulling his head down to press their lips together. He tasted like bitter quinine and the herbal brush of juniper, clean and cool. Rin leaned into him, looping an arm around his waist as he opened his mouth to Haru’s insistence. The door stood open behind them.  
Rin hadn’t expected Haru to be so aggressive. He pushed Haru backwards through the door, pulling it closed. As soon as the catch clicked into place, Haru pressed his back against the wood, one hand sliding down his chest. He slid one leg between Rin’s, entangling their bodies, rubbing them together. Rin pulled in a breath, moving his lips to Haru’s neck, tasting a hint of salt.  
Haru’s hand slid under his shirt, fingers curving over his stomach. He hooked them into the waistband of Rin’s jeans before Rin pulled back, one hand in the center of Haru’s chest. “Wait – “ he said, “just a minute.”  
Lips parted, Haru stared at him. “What am I waiting for?” He ran his tongue over his bottom lip. The collar of his shirt sat just beneath the soft skin in the hollow of his throat. Rin wanted to press them together and run his tongue along that pale patch of skin, to taste him again.  
“I just – I thought you weren’t –“ Rin ran a hand through his hair.  
“I am,” said Haru.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "Hurricane" that Rin is drinking is a sweet alcoholic drink made with rum and fruit juice, syrup, or grenadine. It's the color of passion fruit and its creation is credited to New Orleans tavern owner Pat O'Brien. As the story goes, he needed to get rid of extra rum and invented his beverage, giving it away to sailors. The password to his speakeasy? "Storm's brewin'." The author loves a good Hurricane, preferably drunk in New Orleans in October.
> 
> Nagisa is drinking "Blue Hawai'i". The Blue Hawai'i is a tropical cocktail made of rum, pineapple juice, Curaçao, sweet and sour mix, and sometimes vodka as well. It was invented in 1957 by Harry Yee, legendary head bartender of the Hilton Hawaiian Village (formerly the Kaiser Hawaiian Village) in Waikiki. The Blue Hawai'i is sweet and bright, a fun beverage. 
> 
> Haru is drinking gin and tonic, a highball cocktail made with gin and tonic water poured over ice. This cocktail was introduced by the army of the British East India Company in India. Since it is no longer used as an antimalarial, tonic water today contains much less quinine, is usually sweetened, and is consequently much less bitter. The amount of gin varies according to taste -- the author takes it 1:1. Bombay Sapphire is a London dry gin, light and floral.
> 
> Rei is drinking chuhai -- this is shochu with soda and lemon.
> 
> Last but not least, the Redheaded Slut is a real drink. It can be taken as a shot, as shown here, or poured as a tall beverage. It's cranberry juice, peach Schnapps, and Jägermeister. The author does not really recommend it.
> 
> Thanks to [SpaceRat](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceRat/pseuds/SpaceRat) for edits, again.


	5. no.5

            Rin stumbled over his shoes as he took them off, hopping on his left foot as the right one’s laces clung stubbornly together. He swore softly, fighting with the knots – how pathetic to be having trouble taking his shoes off _now_. Haru watched him from the stairway, one hand on the railing. He stood there unmoving until Rin reached the bottom stair. Haru widened the distance between them no sooner than Rin closed it, walking up the stairway and turning to the left.

            His bedroom was dark and quiet. The bed was perfectly made and the desk neatly stacked with paper and various art supplies. In the light of a single lamp Rin could see that the closet was a riot of color, the toes of glimmering sky-high heels peeking out. It was like looking at a capsule of what little he knew of Haru’s personality. As he turned, he saw Haru’s fingers already lifting the hem of his t-shirt, slowly pulling it off over his head.

            Rin’s neck and ears heated with a fierce blush. “You have a lot of shoes,” he said, looking away. He swallowed, hunching his shoulders.

            “Are you here to comment on my closet?” Haru threw his shirt and it landed squarely on the back of the chair. “You really must be nervous.” A faint smile played around the corners of his mouth, irritatingly smug.

            Rin snapped his shoulders back, glaring. “I’m fine!”

            “I assumed from the way you were dancing with me that this was your endgame,” Haru said. “But if you want to back out, you should say so.”

            What? “I – I don’t have _endgames_ , what the f—just shut up!” Rin stepped forward, grasping Haru’s waist and pulling him close. Crushing their mouths together, he pressed his fingers into Haru’s skin, prepared this time for the way Haru’s fingers slid quickly under his shirt. He dug his nails into Haru’s skin, reveling in the hissing sound it generated.

 

           Haru pushed them towards the bed and Rin let him, winding his fingers into thick hair. His knees hit the bed and he sat, breathless. Haru straddled Rin first, pulling his shirt off over his head and flinging it somewhere into the darkness of the room. It was all happening so _fast_ and hands spread over his torso as Rin braced himself with one arm, leaning back. Haru’s mouth on his became more pressing, and he opened to that insistence without thinking, their tongues sliding together. Rin trailed the fingers of his free hand down Haru’s spine, resting in the divot above his ass.

            By now Haru was subtly moving, a slow and winding near-repeat of the _painfully unforgettable and amazing_ lapdance Rin bought the first time they met. Rin groaned, pushing up against the harsh grind of fabric. Digging his fingers into Haru’s skin he leaned forward, lips barely brushing Haru’s neck. Was this really happening?

           “You really are beautiful,” said Rin. Wide eyes slid over the twist of Haru’s body on top of his, taking in the flash of his skin in the lamplight.

 

           He pressed a hand against Rin’s chest, pushing him down. He was – it was – so surreal, like his dreams from before the paintings, before he knew who Haru was. Rin bent his elbow, leaning back and gasping as the movement rubbed their hips together. His breath shuddered with the intensity of it as Haru twisted on top of him, hands on his shoulders, grinding slowly along Rin’s thigh.

            Rin’s hips pushed up involuntarily, pressing against Haru’s movement. It was _just_ shy of good enough and his grip on Haru’s hips tightened. He knew he should try to focus on something else, but the hard slide of Haru’s dick against his was burning into his brain. “I –“

            Haru pulled away immediately, fingers already working on the zipper of Rin’s jeans. “Not this time,” he said, and Rin felt his face heat from neck to ears. God, did he _have_ to bring that up? Just when he’d finally gotten over the closet thing, too!

            “That’s not –“

            Haru hooked his fingers under the waistband and _pulled_ on his jeans, dragging them down and his boxers with them. Rin scrambled back a little on the bed with a faint yelp, taken entirely off-guard.

            _That_ escalated quickly.

            “What?” Haru dropped the jeans.

 

            Rin braced himself on his hands again as Haru came slinking between his legs. “Nothing,” he said, “not a thing. I, um.” He trembled with the slide of a hand along the bare skin of his inner thigh and closed his eyes. “Um.”

            “I don’t really like talking.” Was it his imagination, or did Haru sound somehow further away? There was a rustling to his left and then nothing, and Rin couldn’t tell where Haru was in the room. The bed dipped slightly with his weight as he returned.

            “Yeah, I noti—ssss—“ Rin opened his mouth to say something else but the words died on his lips as he felt Haru’s tongue draw along the side of his cock. Haru’s mouth slid over the tip of his cock before going down more fully, tongue sliding over the skin. Rin let his head tip back, breath loud in the emptiness of the bedroom. He curled fingers through Haru’s dark hair without thinking about it, pressing on the back of his head as his hips pushed up.

 

            A finger, cold with lubricant, stroked just below his balls and Rin let go of Haru’s hair, gasping. The warm heat of Haru’s mouth was enough to distract him, almost, from the press of the finger working its way inside, joined quickly by a second. Rin tensed, biting his lower lip. It wasn’t his first time, of course – not that Haru would believe that, but it _wasn’t_ – it was just… well, it was only his second time.

            Haru curved his fingers and Rin’s back arched as a moan, embarrassingly loud, tore itself from his chest. His thighs eased wider as Haru continued the pressure, stroking him in a languid fashion, easing his mouth lower. Rin wondered, vaguely, where exactly Haru was planning on putting his tongue before he felt it, dragging along his skin as Haru gently pressed what felt like a condom up against his fingers, pulling them apart. 

            “Wh—“

            “I said I don’t like talking,” Haru interrupted him, and then his mouth was against the latex, wet and hot, tongue flat against Rin’s asshole and it felt… so _dirty_ , and amazing, and wrong, and _perfect_. Rin jerked on the bed, twisting the fingers of one hand into the sheets. “Shit, what are you—“

           Haru’s nails scraped over the back of his thigh and he withdrew from the stinging sensation, pulling his knee closer to his chest. Haru pushed his tongue in and Rin let out an absolutely undignified sound that devolved into near-swallowed swearing. “H-Haru – fuck –“ he didn’t like talking, he didn’t like talking, he didn’t like talking “don’t – stop, don’t stop –“

            He shoved his hips forward, pushing back against Haru’s tongue as it twisted inside him, joining his curving fingers. The thrust of those fingers combined with the roll of his tongue had him begging for something _harder_ and _deeper_. Rin’s voice was painfully loud in the quiet of the bedroom, pleadingly incapable of being silent. He’d never – he hadn’t imagined – _this_. He kept trying to remind himself that Haru didn’t want to hear him talk – what _was_ that about, anyway, wasn’t talking sexy? – but it did no good. The heat in his belly was mounting, pushing him closer to release, and when Haru pulled away from him Rin groaned, eyes springing open. **Why?**

           

            Hand capturing Rin’s wrist, Haru dragged his arm up over his head. He hovered over him, his lips faintly swollen and red. Rin dragged in a breath of air, sliding his free hand up Haru’s side. “God,” said Haru, “you just don’t _stop_ , do you?” and Rin felt his hair brush against his neck as he bent, trailing heated kisses along the skin of his throat.

            “It’s not my fault!” He had to be kidding, right? Rin forced himself to take a deep breath, his chest tight. He hissed with the burning stretch of Haru’s dick pressing into him, his fingers digging into the pale flesh of his side. “Ow, can you just – _okay_ , I’ll – oh. _Oh_.” Pain slowly transformed into pleasure, and Rin bit his lip. This wasn’t the position he’d imagined himself in, coming here, but… The slow, teasing movements became _agonizing_ and Rin attempted to push up to meet him instead, wanting more. “Haru –“

            Rolling his hips, Haru thrust deep into him, driving Rin down into the bed. He shivered and dug his nails in as he felt Haru’s teeth. Aggression unfolded between them, Haru’s thrusts punishing, spurred on by Rin’s writhing, keening reactions and breathless pleas of _harder, faster, fuck me_. He twisted his fingers into Haru’s hair and let his nails scrape down his muscular sides to clutch at him, grasping his hips and pulling. Rin gasped, shuddering as he gripped him with his thighs, bit his neck. In contrast, Haru was quiet; the only sound his quick breathing, becoming more and more ragged in time with their movements.

 

            His hand slid between them again, thumb brushing over the head of Rin’s cock before his fingers wrapped around. “No,” Rin whined, “don’t –“ Haru’s thumb slipped in the precum, jerking across his skin.

           Rin swore, hands digging into Haru’s shoulders as his head bent back before he fell silent, every muscle tensing as he gasped his release between them. Haru drove into him, winding a hand into his hair and _pulling_ before he stiffened, hips jerking through the last motions as he spilled himself, body shivering. Rin barely heard the faint gasps near his ear, wished he’d heard more like them, tried to imagine what Haru’s face looked like.

 

            They lay together for a few bare moments, their breathing the only thing breaking the silence. Rin rolled onto his side, smile fading as Haru pulled away immediately. He tied off the condom and tossed it into a wastebasket, already pulling his jeans back on. Rin sat up in the bed, watching him. His muscles were screaming and he rubbed the back of his neck as silence stretched between then. “So, um…”

            “I’m going to take a shower,” said Haru. “I’m sure you can see yourself out.”

            “W—seriously?” Rin gaped at him, eyes wide. This was _not_ what he’d had in mind. What was happening?

            “…” Blinking at him, Haru ruffled his hair with one hand, unsticking it from his forehead. He sighed, turning his head to the left as he muttered something about the front door being obvious and left the room.   

 

            Rin threw one of the pillows, letting it hit the wall with a soft _poof_ as he flopped back onto the bed, staring at Haru’s ceiling. Were those glow in the dark stars up there? He sat up, narrowing his eyes before vacating the bed _,_ casting around for his jeans. Finding them, he dressed quickly. “’Stop talking, he says. ‘I’m going to take a shower’, he says. ‘see yourself out’, he says.” Rin stared at the bathroom door as he pulled his shirt back on.

           Standing in front of it, he leaned his head against the wood. “When I said I wanted to have dinner and go dancing, I wasn’t just talking about the horizontal mambo, you know.” He kicked the door lightly with his left toe. “Jerk.”

 

            Haru made no reply. Rin listened to the water’s patter for a full minute before he sighed again. “You said you like dolphins, right? I work at the Tokyo Sea Life Aquarium,” Rin said, turning around to rest his back against the door, “you know, if you… want to go.” Disgusted by the smell of sex that clung to his hair, Rin went down the stairs and shoved his feet into his shoes.

            “See you!” he yelled up the staircase before letting himself out.

 

            The walk home was chilly, perfect weather for clearing one’s head. Rin cursed himself for asking Haru out in the first place. What had he expected? Absolutely nothing about him gave the impression that he was a talkative person, easy to be with. It was just – those paintings, and the way their eyes had locked even when Haru was dancing – Rin felt like he _could_ be easy to be with. Couldn’t he?

            Opening the door to his apartment, Rin threw his keys on the table and kicked his shoes back off. His phone chimed as he shut the door and he pulled it out of his back pocket, blinking at the screen.

            _See you next Tuesday_ , the message read. _Let me know if that’s not all right._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we are officially explicit.
> 
> The author would like to thank [SpaceRat](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceRat/pseuds/SpaceRat) for considerable time and edits. Thanks, pal.


	6. no.6

Freaking expensive. Rin looked down at the box in his hands and hoped, desperately, that he hadn’t just _completely wasted_ 4,200 yen on something Haru wouldn’t even like. The slim box was filled with a line of paint tube shaped chocolates, each numbered and with different liquid fillings. They’d seemed so perfect at the time.

In retrospect, food probably wasn’t the best choice of gift. Rin had only seen Haru eat mackerel the one time, and they hadn’t ordered dessert together. But the paint tube chocolates were so perfect he hadn’t been able to pass them up – one of them even had a raspberry filling! He shifted in the subway car, still eyeing his choice.

Well, if Haru didn’t want to eat them, perhaps he could at least appreciate the sentiment. Maybe he’d let Rin eat them. Of course, this all depended on Haru actually _showing up_ which Rin had some serious doubts about.

In even more retrospect, what the hell was Rin doing buying him a present, anyway? Haru didn’t even _deserve_ the chocolate. Rin had planned a perfectly nice date for them only to be told it was ‘too much work’ and then Haru had basically accused him of just… setting up a bootycall?

 

Rin was, frankly, shocked that Haru had agreed to see the aquarium. But – he hadn’t even given him a _time_! See you next Tuesday? Great, thanks for the memo. Not chocolate worthy at all.

 

Disgruntled, Rin disembarked and went to work, deciding to hide the chocolates among his belongings and try to forget about them. He had eight long hours to get through and selling things in the gift shop wasn’t the most engaging work. It was just part time, paying the bills so he could focus on his swimming. The penguins were fun to watch and he had certainly learned more than his fair share about wildlife… although today he found it strangely difficult to listen to the tour guides while waiting for customers. Rin kept checking each of the tour groups – and, alternately, his phone – for any sign of Haru. He was consistently disappointed.

 

Halfway through the shift he broke for lunch, having convinced himself that Haru probably wasn’t coming. Rin walked through the tuna-viewing tank, lunch box in hand. The fish were swimming their leisurely orbit and he paused, watching them. Somehow they were never quite the same when he looked – perhaps it was the constant motion. After a few moments he turned, planning to eat outside in the sun, and noticed a stone-still figure across the tank.

 

Haru.

 

Standing with his hand pressed to the glass, he stared up at the swimming fish, mouth slightly open. The water bent the light across his face into strange, dancing patterns, filling his eyes. Rin watched him stare at the animals for several long minutes, drinking him in. Even in a plain hoodie and jeans, he was beautiful. Rin smiled, pressing his own hand to the glass.

Haru tensed as he saw him, tossing hair away from his eyes.

Rin pulled away, taking a quick route around to the other side of the tank, stopping just close enough for Haru to hear him, but definitely not close enough for them to be… together.

 

“I thought you weren’t coming.” Rin made no move to close the distance between them.

The wonder faded from Haru’s face as he tilted his head to the left, looking at Rin’s lunch. “I did.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Rin’s shoulders tightened. Haru’s now-shuttered expression _annoyed_ him. “Look, you should’ve told me a time. I could’ve saved you part of your admission fee.” And maybe not have freaked out all morning; that would have been a nice bonus, too.

“I don’t mind.” Haru blinked. “Is it your lunch break, now?”

“Yeah. I get an hour.” Rin turned. “Come on.” He could hear Haru’s footsteps behind him, but pride kept him from saying anything else. After a moment, Haru let out a very soft sigh.

“I’ll eat fast,” said Rin, looking over his shoulder, “if that’s why you’re sighing.”

 

In the end, to save time, they sat in the small restaurant – mostly alone but for a smattering of parents with young children. Rin wiggled his right foot as he unwrapped the sandwich he’d brought with him, the feel of Haru’s eyes on his hands almost painfully intense.

“What?” he finally snapped, looking up with set teeth. Haru was just _sitting_ there with his perfect hair and his perfect skin and his perfect _fucking_ face. Honestly, those jeans should’ve been illegal, and he felt his blush sinking down the back of his neck as Haru shifted in his chair. God, he wanted to kiss him.

“Why are you angry?”

“Because you _suck_ ,” said Rin before biting into his sandwich with a bit more zeal than necessary, his teeth clicking together.

“… People don’t usually complain about that.” Haru leaned his face on his left hand, watching Rin nearly choke on his food.

“F— that is _not_ what I meant! Is everything sexual to you?” Rin swirled the tea in his cup, ears painfully hot. “Why are you _like_ that?”

“Is this about me kicking you out?”

Rin swallowed. “… I’m not an ‘endgame’ guy,” he said, crooking his fingers into quotation marks. In all honesty, not only was Rin _so not_ an endgame guy, but the fact that someone would assume he could be so… blasé… about something so intimate… he’d gone over their interactions at least twenty times in his head, trying to figure out how he could have given Haru that impression. “I just –“

Looking down at the table, Haru traced vague patterns on its surface with an index finger. “I hurt your feelings, didn’t I?”

“Shut up,” said Rin, even though it was true. How could Haru have _thought_ that?

 

“In my defense,” Haru started to say, “you _did_ ask me out while I was—“

“I _told you_ I just wanted to _talk_!” Rin slapped his sandwich down on the table. “I asked you to dinner! You’re the one who insisted on doing –“ people were staring. Rin winced, lowering his voice. “… Whatever you were doing – and, _and_ I tried to say goodnight to you at your _door_ but you just dragged me inside –“

“I didn’t **drag** you anywhere!” Was it Rin’s imagination, or was Haru getting angry?

Had he finally cracked that emotionless mask? That thought gave Rin a surge of perverse pleasure and he grinned. Haru looked away from him, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. After Rin finished half his sandwich, Haru glanced at him again.

“What?”

“I thought that’s what you wanted,” said Haru. His voice was very soft, so soft that Rin had to lean in to hear him.

“Why don’t we start over,” Rin suggested. “I’ll show you the dolphins and you can try not to be such an asshole to me. Okay?”

Haru sighed, uncrossing his arms.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Rin said.

 

They walked through the aquarium after that, Rin telling Haru things about the fish he’d learned from listening to the biologists explain to touring children. At the penguin exhibit, Haru leaned over the railing, studying the animals with a faint, quiet excitement. The fuzzy babies brought a small smile to his face as he waved at them. Rin explained about the different species, leaning on his elbows and watching Haru’s eyes follow the birds, fascinated. He was precious like this, so open and delighted.

 

As they paused in the tuna tank to stare at the dazzling display, Rin stood as close as he could without actually touching Haru. He’d seen these fish a thousand times, but he’d never noticed the dim intimacy of the light, the ever-changing patterns of the water. Haru was beautiful and the nearness of him skittered along Rin’s nerves, winding him up, tightening in his stomach. Brushing it off with a chuckle, he took Haru’s hand, pulling him a little. “C’mon, I promised your inner teenage girl dolphins, didn’t I?”

 

He pressed a hand flat to the glass, gazing upward as the dolphin swam closer. Haru let out a soft, glorious gasp as the dolphin brought its nose to the glass near his hand. “Oh,” Haru turned his head, his cheeks softly rosy with a blush as he watched the dolphin glide through the water.

“I think he likes you,” Rin said. _I’m so screwed._ He leaned on the glass, crossing his arms, his eyes traveling down Haru’s body and back up, resting on his face. The delight in Haru’s eyes washed over him and Rin’s heart jumped in his chest. _Look at me that way, just once._

Haru looked back up, hair falling back from his face. “He’s so beautiful,” he said. The dolphin swam lazily between them, twisting through the water.

“Yeah, I know.” Rin wasn’t looking at the dolphin.

 

The hour was up too soon, Rin swearing as he checked his watch. “I have to get back to work.”

“Oh.” Haru turned away from the fish. “You can come to my place later,” he suggested, the scent of his hair washing over Rin, sea and sand. His hand slid along the side of Rin’s jacket, pressing against the small of his back.

“No,” said Rin, “I don’t want to come over.” Well, that wasn’t true. Just the faint pressure of Haru’s fingers along his spine sent his pulse racing, the memory of those fingers pressing into him springing immediately into his mind. He flushed a fierce, instant blush. “I—I mean, I **do**. Want to.”

Haru flipped hair out of his face again, frowning.

Rin wasn’t endgame guy, hadn’t he said that already? He didn’t want to be Haru’s almost-friend with admittedly amazing benefits. “Haru, that’s not – I didn’t ask you here for –“ he swallowed. “I just wanted to spend time with you.”

God, he was pathetic.

 

Haru’s eyes bored into him for a moment, the light sharpening their edges. “Okay. Then come see me tomorrow.” Haru let his fingers slowly slide down the edge of Rin’s jacket before his arm fell to his side. “I’m dancing at nine.”

Come see him? Was he kidding? “I can’t,” said Rin.

Haru’s eyebrows drew together as he frowned, eyes traveling down over Rin’s figure and back up. “Why not?”

“You’re annoying. And I have plans.”

“Next week, then.” Haru stepped away. “I want you to.”

Rin sighed. As the clock indicated that he really, _really_ had to go, he ruffled a hand through his hair. “Fine,” he said. “See you at nine. In a _week_.”

“I’ll save you a seat,” said Haru.

“Yeah, whatever.” He paused. Wasn’t he forgetting something?

 

The chocolate. “Wait a minute, okay?” Rin went to the shop, ducking behind the counter. He returned to see Haru staring at the fish again, oblivious to everything else. Shaking his head, Rin tapped him on the shoulder.

“Here.” He shoved the slim box into Haru’s hands. “I don’t even know why I bought you this, but – just, I hope you like them, okay?” How embarrassing. Rin fidgeted, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing away as Haru pried the lid off. The chocolates were so, so, _so_ stupid. What was he thinking?

“I don’t know if you even like chocolate,” Rin said quickly, running over anything Haru had to say, “but I saw them and I thought of you, so…”

 

“They’re all different,” Haru said, picking a tiny paint-tube shaped candy out and looking at the label.

“Well, yeah…” Rin swallowed. He should’ve just eaten them himself and trashed the whole ridiculously schoolyard idea. “It’s okay if you don’t want them. You know, if you don’t like –“

“They’re interesting,” Haru interrupted, “thank you.” He held the chocolate out to Rin wide end first. “This one’s raspberry. You like that, don’t you?”

How did he know that? Rin took the candy, biting the edge off. Smooth liquid filling poured over his tongue, the taste tangy but sweet.

“It suits you.” Haru closed the box. Something in the way he was watching Rin’s mouth was embarrassing, tongue running over his bottom lip, eyes dark.

 

Flushing, Rin chewed and swallowed. His heartbeat raced in his ears – why did Haru have to _get_ to him so bad? “I _really_ have to get back to work.”

“Okay.” Haru didn’t move.

“So… See you.” Rin shoved his hands in his pockets as he turned away, absolutely _not_ watching Haru walk away in his dark blue jeans. The way the denim clung to his hips was just _unfair_. The touch of a hand surprised him and he jerked as Haru pulled him into a dark corner by the eel tank, pressing their mouths together. Rin gasped as his shoulders hit the wall, the slide of Haru’s tongue along his bottom lip unexpected and perfect.

The tips of his fingers grazed over Rin’s cheek as if he were glass. “See you in a week,” Haru breathed, and then he was gone.

 

Rin stared after him, still leaning against the wall, heartbeat ringing in his ears. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back against the wall. The scent of Haru’s hair lingered and Rin sighed, opening his eyes again. “Damn,” he murmured. A week was a _long_ time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, thanks go to SpaceRat for the admittedly extensive edits this chapter required. Thanks, pal!
> 
> The chocolates purchased for Haru do exist -- they are sold by [Nendo](http://www.nendo.jp/en/works/chocolate-paint-2/). There really is a raspberry one.
> 
> AO3 doesn't seem to preserve formatting well and the author finds it exhausting to change all the spacing. Sorry.


	7. no.7

The week crept by. Rin went to work, to swimming practice, and home in a haze of thought, preoccupied with blue eyes and dark hair. He dreamed of Haru at night – embarrassing, heated dreams that left him waking breathless, spending his mornings in the bathroom with his hand. He replayed their night together, imagined himself turning the tables on Haru and finally, _finally_ making him say his name – Rin found himself daydreaming about Haru at work, remembering their kiss in the darkened corner, imagined it becoming something more. Even his _swimming practice_ wasn’t free from thoughts of Haru.  
He’d exchanged only a few text messages with Haru over those seven days, most of them all business. Any attempt he’d made at flirtation hadn’t really been returned, and sometimes it took Haru hours – even a full day, at one point – to reply at all. Regardless, Rin kept trying – and Haru ignored all of it, including his veiled remarks about an obvious lack of interest. Rin had managed to confirm the evening, but only just, with Haru reminding him of the time only an hour before he needed to leave.

Rin was on a list of some type when he got to the door of Freestyle!, with a table saved for him near the stage as promised. Haru was nowhere in sight as Rin sat down, nervously toying with the links of his bracelet. He comforted himself with thoughts that this time would not be like last time – he knew damn _well_ how he wanted the night to end, and it didn’t involve a chaste kiss at the door.

“Pardon me, is this seat taken?” The voice was unfailingly polite and rather familiar. Rin looked up into the face of Ryugazaki Rei.  
“Oh,” he said. “No, please.” Rin motioned to the chair and smiled as Rei sat.  
“Here for Nagisa?”  
“Of course.” Rei adjusted his glasses frames with one hand, glancing at the stage. As silence stretched between them, Rin shifted in his chair. He scrubbed his palms on his jeans, swallowing. What did salarymen _talk_ about in their spare time? He hadn’t the faintest idea… and Rin definitely didn’t want to talk about Haru. The moment the lights went down he breathed a sigh of relief, one that was echoed by Rei. They’d both ordered chuhai this time.

Rin had to sit through about three performances before he recognized a dancer – and it was Nagisa, not Haru. He tried to quell his annoyance and shoot a smile at Rei, but it was clear immediately that as long as Nagisa was on stage, Rei wasn’t capable of noticing anything else.

That realization filled Rin with a faint jealousy. He leaned his chin in his hand, watching Rei watch Nagisa. His eyes never left him, attention rapt and undivided. Was this how Rin looked when watching Haru – so taken with him, adoring? No wonder Haru found it so easy to tease him. Rin frowned as the music ended, a short recess in between dancers filled in with popular tunes. Rei glanced at him. “I suppose you weren’t aware that Haruka-san is dancing last this evening?”

Last? What a dick! Why hadn’t Haru said so? Rin sighed, the waste of his time intensely annoying. “No,” he said, tossing back the last of the liquid in his glass, “he left that out.”  
Rei chuckled.  
“It’s not funny,” said Rin.  
“Haruka-san is…”  
“A total asshole?”  
“I was going to say eccentric,” Rei said.  
“I guess he’s that, too,” Rin agreed, leaning back in his chair.

They sat through _three more dancers_ before Rei leaned over to tell Rin that next, finally, Haruka would be dancing. Rin checked his watch and ordered another drink. _God_ this was taking _forever_. Even if each performer was only dancing for a few minutes, he felt like he’d been sitting there for a _million years_.

The stage was dark as the music started, a single spotlight flicking on to reveal Haru in a brilliantly gold belt and loose, flowing, translucent trousers. Rin raised a brow. Bellydancing? Anticipation coiled in his stomach, dark and sweet.  
Haru’s back was to the audience, arms curved upward. He was bare at the waist though a cropped shirt of inky black covered his shoulder blades beneath a white scarf. As the music began to build, Haru twisted his body into a sinuous S shape, hips moving one way and upper body another over and over again. His arms waved in and out of complex patterns, a bracelet glimmering around one bicep. Rin stared with wide eyes, breathless.

Haru turned very slowly, hips moving in time with the music. His torso curved and his eyes came up from the floor to glance at Rin as he moved, biting his lower lip for a single, agonizing second. Rin swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck and he blushed. Haru’s hips shivered in their movements, glittering the fabric of his trousers in the light. Every time he looked up from the stage, Haru locked eyes with Rin. When he let his hands run down his sides, he was looking at Rin. Running his tongue along his bottom lip, Rin shifted to the front of his seat. It felt like the temperature in the club had risen ten degrees.

As Haru laid on the stage, his head fell to the side, eyes still turned to Rin’s table. He lifted his body in a wave, hips thrusting upward. Rin swallowed, tightening his hands on his jeans. His eyes slid over the muscles in Haru’s abdomen and he bit his lip. There was a gap between Haru’s skin and the metal of his belt, the skin that appeared there pale and luminous. Rin imagined sliding his tongue across it, thought about the soft scent of Haru’s hair and the feeling of his hands –

As Haru rolled to stand up, popping his hips back, Rin caught a faint flash of red from between his legs. His breath caught – no _way_. Haru was _not_ wearing a… a… was he? Rin swallowed, eyes widening. It was impossible to tell for sure through the dark fabric of his trousers, but if he _was_ , then…  
Then Haru had invited Rin here and worn a plug in his ass and stood up that way on _purpose_ , knowing Rin would notice. Haru _had to_ have known he’d notice! God, he hadn’t seen Haru in a _week_ and now this? Rin shifted in his seat, trying to release some of the tension his jeans were putting on his cock. He gripped his glass. How was he _dancing_ like that without –  
He took a deep breath.  
“Are you all right?” Rei’s worried voice filtered into Rin’s consciousness.  
Rin couldn’t bring himself to peel his eyes away from Haru to look at Rei while answering. “I’m fine,” he said, aware that he sounded rather hoarse. Ears burning, Rin slumped a little lower in his chair.

Haru’s back was to them again, body undulating with the music. He bent backward, hair falling out of his face as his head tipped nearer and nearer the floor. The white scarf dropped off his shoulders. The flexibility alone sent a shiver along the back of Rin’s neck, but it was the drop of his hips with the beat when he stood straight again that sent the heat roaring through his face. He couldn’t help but think about what those movements felt like against the rough fabric of his jeans.

He just wanted to _touch_ him. Dreaming about Haru was nothing compared to having him in front of Rin, even with the frustration of the _look but don’t touch_ atmosphere. The pale skin in the small of his back led Rin’s eyes and imagination consistently lower, dancing around ever more explicit visions of what was beneath those trousers. Haru’s hips popped back, to the side, back again – and each roll of his ass toward the audience let the light hit him, catching the red jewel in a faint sparkle. Rin, from his close seat to the stage, could make out the glitter of it by leaning forward, holding his breath.

When the music ended he was aware of the light sweat along the back of his neck and the _seriousness_ of his need not to stand up any time soon. Rin picked his glass up but found it empty. “Ah –“  
“Need some water?” Nagisa grinned at him.  
“When did you get here?”  
Laughing, Nagisa shook his head. “You didn’t notice me at all, huh? Well, I can’t blame you – Haru-chan’s new routine is really something.”  
“You should learn to bellydance, Nagisa-kun,” said Rei. “It was quite beautiful.”

Rin let their chatter wash over him, inane and calming. He slowly relaxed back into the chair, ordering a drink from a waitress while he waited for Haru to come out. Rin let out a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, looking around. “He’ll be out in a minute Rin-chan,” said Nagisa, “calm down.”  
“I am calm!”

A hand descended on the back of Rin’s chair and he turned quickly, bumping into Haru’s hip. “Ah – Haru.”

“Nagisa, you know we can’t sit out here –“  
“Unless we’re getting business, yeah, I know,” Nagisa waved a hand, cutting Haru off. “I was just about to convince this stoic gentleman to buy a dance. Wasn’t I, Mr. Salaryman?” He curled his fingers through Rei’s tie.  
Poor Rei. Rin grinned as he stood, heading immediately for the stairs. His mirth was short-lived, however, as Haru turned away from him. He hadn’t even _acknowledged_ him!  
“Where are you going?”  
“It’s a job, you realize,” Haru said. “I have to follow the rules.”  
“And I have to buy a dance if I want to talk to you, right?” Rin leaned his elbow on the table. It _should_ be safe to stand…  
“Yes. Will you?”  
Rin rolled his eyes. “See you upstairs.”

He should’ve known he’d have to subject himself to a lap dance – with Haru in that _outfit_ , too! Not even just that, but… Rin swallowed, ears burning. It would be best to just get up the stairs as fast as possible, avoiding any embarrassment. Rin paid the manager and quickly took the stairs, two at a time, to the champagne room. It was more expensive, but it was the only thing immediately available.  
The champagne room was bigger than the other lapdance booths, with a more luxurious loveseat. Rin sat quickly, perching just on the edge. He didn’t want to get _too_ comfortable. The room had the same mirrored walls as the other booths and Rin turned his head to the right, looking at his reflection. A soft _creak_ signaled the door opening and he smiled.  
Haru hadn’t changed out of his bellydancing costume at all, as predicted. He pushed the door behind him, clicking it shut.

Rin leaned back on the loveseat. “Nice performance,” he said.  
“Thanks.” Haru was in flat shoes for once, though the loose trousers still swayed as he stepped toward Rin. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip.  
Picking up a glass of champagne, Rin held it out. “They tell me I’m supposed to give one to you,” he said.  
“That’s generally how the champagne room works, yes,” said Haru. He took the glass in gentle fingers, setting it on the table. Running his fingers through the edge of Rin’s hair, Haru moved to sit.  
“Wait,” Rin grasped at his hips, hooking his fingers under Haru’s belt. Looking up at him, his eyes wandered along the exposed skin of his abdomen, the hard lines of muscle. He was so _distractingly perfect_ it was hard to think about anything else. He took a deep breath. “Wait just a minute. We haven’t seen each other in a week. I really just wanted to talk to you, you don’t have to dance –“  
“I like dancing,” Haru said. “I asked you here for dancing.” He trailed his fingers down the side of Rin’s neck. Rin shivered and Haru _smirked_ , twisting his hips a little.  
Right. He had asked him here for dancing, which reminded him… Rin narrowed his eyes, sliding a hand around to grip Haru’s ass. Maybe two could play this teasing game. “Go ahead,” he said, waving his free hand over his lap.

Haru hesitated for a bare moment before leaning forward, setting hands on Rin’s shoulders as he straddled his lap. Rin took the opportunity to slide his fingers up, testing his theory. Haru let out a very faint gasp and his fingers dug into Rin’s shoulders.  
“ _I knew it_ ,” Rin hissed, running his index finger around a smooth glass edge near what felt like a cut jewel. He felt the blush rise in his cheeks as he pushed at the plug, feeling its size. “Haru, is this a –“  
“You know what exactly it is,” Haru said, gripping Rin’s wrist with a surprising amount of force. He twisted his hips and slid the offending hand up to the belt around his waist. “And there are cameras in here.” He moved with the music, up and then down on Rin’s lap.  
Rin’s breath shivered. His jeans felt too tight again and the room too warm – he leaned into the loveseat, trying to put space between them. Haru followed, grinding against his crotch. Swallowing, Rin stroked his fingers along the bare skin of Haru’s lower back. Haru panted near his ear, the breath hot and light, twisting against him.

The song was over far too soon. Rin let out a groan when Haru pulled away from him. “W—“  
“One song at a time,” Haru said, running his hand over the back of his neck. He picked up the champagne glass and tipped it back, swallowing. Letting out a heavy breath, he glanced at Rin. “You only paid for one, didn’t you?”  
“Well, yeah,” said Rin, shifting himself on the loveseat. _Damnit_ Haru was driving him insane. He wondered if a man could actually die from sexual overload.  
“I’ll see you later, won’t I?”  
How could he say no to those luminous eyes? “Of course,” Rin stammered, feeling strangely drunk. He hadn’t even had that much! He shook his head, laughing. “Of course I’ll see you later. But –”  
“Then one song is fine.” Haru opened the door. Blessedly cool air snaked into the room, and Rin blew out a soft breath. A patron and another dancer walked by them in the hallway heading to a different room. Haru’s eyes were on the clock.  
Narrowing his eyes, Rin frowned. “Right,” he said, “just – just a minute. How late are you working?”  
“Until the club closes, of course,” Haru’s reply was swift and quiet.  
“And… what are you doing until then?”  
Haru stared at him for a long moment. “Dancing,” he said finally, tilting his chin to the left. He glanced at the clock again. What _was_ that? Did he want to move on to the next customer so quickly?  
Rin grit his teeth. “What, am I wasting your time?” _Dancing_. After all, that was the job, wasn’t it? Rin was basically dating an erotic dancer. Haru stared at him but said nothing. “You know what? Forget it.” He brushed past Haru after a long moment of silence stretched between them.

Rin went back to the table, ordering a glass of water and another chuhai for himself. He’d have to nurse the drink slowly, now – that champagne room was expensive! Haru wove through the crowd, dropping a hand on a shoulder here and there, letting the light frame him perfectly. Within minutes, several men had handed bills over to him, and two women consulted with the manager not an instant after Haru walked away from them.  
Rin watched with gritted teeth as a dark-suited salaryman follow Haru up the stairs, staring at his ass the entire time. And why shouldn’t he? Haru’s ass was exquisite. And if the light was hitting it right, then…  
Rin groaned, leaning his forehead in his hand. God, would Haru sit on that man’s lap, too? Let him touch him? Run his hands through his hair, lips just next to his ear? Rin could see it now: the man’s hands brushing just below the waist of the trousers, rubbing across Haru’s skin as he balanced him over his c—

“Matsuoka-san?” Rei was back from his time with Nagisa, reclaiming his own seat. He leaned forward, looking at Rin’s face. “Are you… all right?”  
“I’m _fine_.” Rin swore under his breath and drank deeply from his water.  
After a minute, Rei chuckled. “I suppose you’ve never dated a dancer before,” he said. They both watched Nagisa lead an older man up the stairs.  
“W—what are you talking about?” Crossing his arms, Rin shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”  
“You’re right, it isn’t.” Rei tipped his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “But sometimes it can make a man a bit… jealous?”  
“It’s really stupid to be jealous when you’re dating a stripper,” Rin said.  
Rei raised a brow. “It is,” he agreed.

Rin let a few minutes pass before ruffling his hair again and groaning. “Fine, fine. Okay. So if I _were_ to be a little jealous…”  
Rei laughed. “Matsuoka-san –“  
“Rin’s fine.”  
“… Rin-san, I didn’t come back to this establishment for the first month that Nagisa-kun and I were dating.”  
Seriously? “What, not at all?”

Shaking his head, Rei emptied his glass. “Not once. I found it necessary to limit my exposure to his employment until I was certain I would be able to handle it.” He crossed his arms, a mimic of Rin’s posture. “I felt that Nagisa-kun was worth the strange hours. We’ve discussed his work and I trust him. And I try not to come here very often.”  
“The hours don’t bother me.” Rin tried to peel his mind away from the images of another man’s hands all over Haru’s body. How many of them had their lapdance end the way his first one had? Did he even want to know? The memory of Haru grinding against his leg sprang, unbidden, into his mind. “It’s just –“  
“You don’t trust Haruka-san?”  
Rin laughed. “What? No, that’s got nothing to do with it. Haru couldn’t seem more bored if he tried, most of the time. It’s not him I don’t trust.”  
“The patrons, then.”

Rin looked around them at the men watching pole dancers. “Do you blame me?”  
“But _you_ came here too, did you not?”  
“Well yeah, but I wasn’t planning on becoming a regular or anything.” Rin’s shoulders tightened. He was definitely not on the same level as the table of men next to them. As he watched one of them tuck money into a dancer’s g-string, however, he reflected on the fact that what they lacked in looks, they more than made up for in cash.  
“The club rules disallow touching of the dancers, of course. Are you concerned about Haruka-san’s safety?” Rei adjusted his glasses.

“Haru can take care of himself,” Rin said. “But, well –“

“It’s just a job,” said Rei. “You have one too, I assume. And Haruka-san… is an artist.” He shrugged. “I don’t believe that he considers his dancing to be anything else.”  
“Yeah, I noticed.” Rin flagged the waitress and asked for his tab. “Listen, I appreciate your advice, but I think I’m just gonna get going, okay?” He paid the balance and stood, swinging his jacket around his shoulders.  
“Rin-san,” said Rei, catching his sleeve lightly. “You should know I’ve never seen Haruka-san show interest in anyone before you.”  
Rin shook him off.

The walk home was chilly and windy. Rin stuffed his hands into his pockets, hunching his shoulders. No doubt Haru was taking the next in what seemed to be a long line of clients. Rin couldn’t help the vulgar images that danced behind his eyes. Did Haru always keep his clothes on in the lapdance rooms? Were there really even cameras in there?  
 _I’ve never seen Haruka-san show interest in anyone before you._  
No one before him, huh? Rin sighed, jumping into a train car just before its doors slid closed. Haru had _asked_ him to come. Surely that dance had really been for him – hadn’t it? Rin knocked his head back against the side of the car. What was his problem? Couldn’t he enjoy a good thing when it fell, literally, in his lap?

Maybe Rei was right. Staying out of the club was probably the best idea he’d heard in a long time. Rin stared down at his hands. Outside of Freestyle! Haru seemed like such a different person. The wonder in his eyes at the aquarium, the sweetness of his kiss… Rin wanted to spend time with _that_ Haru. He wanted to watch him paint and cook him breakfast after they created constellations in the stars on his ceiling. Rin wanted to see what _Haru the artist_ looked like naked.

Which he definitely would not be doing if he went home.

Sighing, Rin got off the train at the next stop. He stopped long enough to buy a coffee before heading for Haru’s door. Backtracking took him longer than expected, but more time to cool his head was never anything but a blessing. A glance at his watch showed that he had several hours to wait before it was likely that Haru would be home. Crouching by the door, Rin slowly drank his coffee and went over his training routine. The minutes ticked by and time seemed to slow to a crawl. He tried to focus on something useful, like ways to improve his speed… but his mind kept wandering back to Haru and his _perfect_ face and the glitter of red in those damn trousers.  
Eventually, the alcohol and the late hour caught up him.

“Rin.”  
Rin jerked a little, catching himself just before he fell over. “Ah—“  
“You waited?” Haru stood in front of him, looking down. He’d put on a dark blue jacket with rows of bright gold buttons. The military-style coat looked strange with the flowing trousers, but Haru never seemed to care about what anyone else thought about anything. Rin stared up at him, words stuck in his throat.  
“Uh –“  
“It’s very late,” Haru said. “I thought you’d just gone home.”  
Cringing, Rin pushed himself up onto his feet. “Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t say goodbye. I know I should’ve, but I –“  
“You were uncomfortable,” Haru said.  
“No,” said Rin, hunching his shoulders.  
Haru raised a brow as he unlocked his door. “No?”  
“Well… yes, but –“ Rin stopped, struggling with his shoes. “It was stupid. I don’t want to talk about it. Can’t you just accept my apology?”

Haru shut the door behind him, waiting patiently for Rin to get his shoes off. “You seemed upset with me.” He leaned close and Rin caught the scent of his hair, barely hidden under smoke from the club.  
“I’m not,” Rin said, and the rest of his words disappeared beneath Haru’s lips.  
Getting upstairs was a blur. Rin’s shirt landed on the stairway, somewhere, and his belt hit the bedroom floor before they were even fully through the doorway. Rin shivered under Haru’s hands, fumbling for his hips, pressing them together, cock achingly hard already. Haru slammed the door behind them, hands dragging over Rin’s skin as he pushed his back against the cold, slick surface of a mirror. Rin groaned, pulling at Haru’s belt, grinding against him and dragging his teeth along Haru’s throat. He was so—insistent—

  
A week’s worth of erotic dreams and limited contact drove Rin out of any remaining shyness. Arching away from the surface Rin gripped at Haru’s body, twisting him around to face the mirror as he buried his face in the skin just below his hair. He slid his tongue along the back of Haru’s neck, tasting salt. Haru leaned into him and Rin twisted their fingers together, bringing Haru’s hands up to rest on either side of the full-length mirror.  
The contrast in the mirror sent a chill down Rin’s spine – Haru was still fully clothed while Rin stood behind him, half-naked. He looked… strong, in control, his faint tan contrasting with Haru’s pale skin. Rin let his hands feather gently down Haru’s sides, eyes on the mirror as barely-swollen lips parted in a sweet gasp. It was everything he’d dreamed about, everything except – Rin pushed up on the golden belt, pulling one end of the trouser ties until the knot caught and unraveled. The trousers gave way and Rin caught them, looping the front over the belt as the back slithered to Haru’s knees. The red jewel of the plug in Haru’s ass sparkled in the low light, brilliant against his pale skin.

  
Rin groaned. “God, you – who were you thinking about,” he asked, letting his hands trace the shape of Haru’s spine all the way down his back, “putting this in?” He tried to imagine Haru at home, touching himself privately as he slid the glass into himself. Wanting to recreate his mental picture, Rin pushed his palm against the plug, grinning when Haru shoved back against him.  
“Nnn—“  
“Me?” Oh, please say it was. Rin wrapped his fingers around it again, twisting as he pulled against the plug. “Because I was thinking about _you_ …” The toy shifted only slightly and Rin groaned again. Haru was tight around the glass.

“Y – ahh, I said I don’t—I don’t like talking,” Haru gasped, panting against him, hips shivering. Their eyes locked in the mirror as a faint blush rose in Haru’s cheeks.  
“But _I_ do.” Rin punctuated his words by _pushing_ the toy back in.  
“Nnhh—ah!”

“It’s driving you crazy too, right?” Having the upper hand was dizzying, like his dreams, and Rin pulled the plug back. “I thought about you all _week_ , Haru. Every night, I – you’re so—“ He bent, gliding his tongue over Haru’s skin, swallowing the sentence. The heat of his skin was spicy and sweet.  
Haru shoved back against him, digging his fingers into the door. He twisted at the waist, grinding against Rin’s hand. In the mirror, Haru stared directly into Rin’s eyes.  
“Beautiful – you’re so… beautiful,” Rin gasped, twisting the jewel in his fingers as Haru whimpered, head falling down between his arms. The golden belt around his waist glimmered as he shook, the filmy fabric of the trousers shuddering around his thighs. He _was_ beautiful, beautiful and vulnerable and Rin wanted him _so badly_ that it burned in his chest. “Haru,” he murmured, rocking the jeweled plug between his fingers, hoping that the broken moan that worked its way out from somewhere in Haru’s throat meant that he was seeing stars.

Rin wanted him to see stars.

One hand fumbled with the zipper of his jeans while the other slid over Haru’s skin again, not wanting to lose contact with him. The plug had to go, of course, lovely as it was – Rin grasped it intently, pulling steadily until it came out in his hand.  
“W—“  
He pushed in, groaning as the heat enveloped him. In the mirror Rin could clearly see the heat across Haru’s skin, could watch his mouth drop open in a moan, see him bite his lower lip. Haru’s fingers curled against the wood of the door and Rin gasped for air, feeling almost drunk with the knowledge that he was responsible for the brush of pink across Haru’s cheeks, the glaze of pleasure in his eyes.

Sliding his hands under the half shirt, twisting Haru’s nipples in his fingers, Rin forced himself to move slowly, hissing with the pressure. The _tightness_ of it was – he rubbed his thumb across Haru’s nipple again, feeling it harden, waiting for him to push back. “Fu—fuck, Haru.” Rin gripped at his hips, slowly withdrawing and finally, _finally_ Haru ground his ass back against him, pushing him deeper.

Rin traced the muscles in Haru’s back as he thrust into him again, a steady rhythm quickly developing between them. He was so _hot_ and so _tight_ and the breathy moans that Rin could barely hear were driving him _crazy_ and if he weren’t careful this would all be over too soon—  
Pulling out, Rin caught at Haru’s wrist again, pulling him away from the mirror. Haru gasped against him, their tongues sliding together as Rin pushed them towards the bed, losing his jeans and stripping Haru of his trousers as they went. The sheets were shockingly cool against his skin as Haru wrapped his legs around him.

Rin pressed into him again, burying his face against Haru’s neck. That spicy herb-and-sea scent went straight to his head and he dragged his tongue along Haru’s pulse, tasting his skin. Hot thighs tightened around him and Haru arched up, breathing in sharply. Rin turned his head to ask if he was all right and Haru kissed him, soft and passionate, winding fingers into his hair. Rin wanted to be gentle with him, wanted to hear Haru say his name – but it was _impossible_ to hold back when Haru gripped his biceps and rocked his hips upward like that. The mattress creaked beneath them and Rin lost himself in the barely-there gasps and the sting of nails against his skin.

Pushing up on his arms he looked down at Haru as he thrust into him and slid his eyes over the flush of skin atop white linen. Everything was _so different_ this way and it was somehow even _hotter_ to watch Haru try to hold any sound back, worrying his lip with his teeth, the half-shirt rucked up around his nipples above the gleaming gold of that damn belt. Haru’s grip on his hips was powerful and tight, thrusting them together harder and harder and _harder_. “Shit,” Rin murmured, “I can’t –“

Rin rolled against him, almost shuddering as he felt muscles clench – Haru reached between them, fingers stroking over his own skin and he threw his head back, baring his throat.  
“Haa—“  
It was a tiny sound, but it was enough. Rin jerked as he came, body still even as Haru’s hips continued their sinuous motion, edging out the last of what he needed before he spilled between them, sticky and hot.

Head hitting the pillow next to Haru’s, Rin remained there for a moment before pulling away, letting the cool air in the room wash over them both. Haru shifted away from him, just barely, and Rin reached to grab his wrist. “Don’t,” he said. Rin rolled onto his side, gentle fingers trailing up Haru’s arm.  
“I’m very sticky,” Haru said, voice tinged with distaste.  
Rin winced. He’d forgotten a condom, and somehow – _somehow –_ in his desperation, Haru hadn’t even _said_ anything. “Look, I’m sorry –“  
“Whatever,” said Haru. He wound a strand of Rin’s hair around a finger before pulling away again, glancing towards the bathroom door. Rin sat up as he went, rubbing hands over his face and looking around the room for his shirt.  
Oh, right. It was probably on the staircase. He sighed as the water turned on, flopping back against the pillows to stare upwards as he had done the last time. Those glow in the dark stars were still there. Rin counted a few of them before getting up and finding his jeans, pulling them on quickly. The hum of the water from the shower was soft as he opened the bedroom door.  
It creaked. **Loudly.**

“Are you _leaving_?” Haru’s voice was loud enough to carry from the shower.  
Rin jerked, turning immediately while swearing under his breath. Shit! He hadn’t realized Haru would notice. But – why did he sound so… offended? “I thought you wanted me to,” he said, taking a step back.  
The shower pattered on for a moment. “You can – you can always… stay,” Haru said, voice almost disappearing under the water.  
“Stay?” Rin walked to the door and poked his head inside. “Like – stay the _night_?”  
“Not if you don’t want to,” Haru said quickly, turning off the water.  
Who was he kidding? Like a child, Rin snatched at the gift before it could be taken away. “Of course I want to!”  
“Then you should take a shower,” Haru said, reaching out and grabbing a towel off a hook.  
Rin flushed and backed out of the bathroom, glancing at the bed. Take a shower, stay the night… was he dreaming? Scrubbing his fingers across the back of his head, he shrugged. Hair dripping, Haru pushed past him, and Rin rolled his eyes before stepping into the bathroom and back out of his jeans.

The room was small and tidy, its mirror clouded with steam. Rin noticed fancy shampoo and a bar of white soap in the shower, faintly herbal. The soap created thick, fluffy lather that rinsed off clean and filled his nostrils with the sharp, cool scent of lavender. Rin closed his eyes, breathing it in. It was the same scent he remembered on the collar of Haru’s jacket. The shampoo was similar – luxurious and herbal, the spicy scent that snaked through his dreams. Not wanting to waste any more time, he rinsed off as quickly as possible. As Rin stepped out of the shower he tried not to drip all over the floor, grabbing for the pale blue towel Haru had left out for him. He scrubbed himself dry. Pushing open the bathroom door, Rin let the cool air from the bedroom wash over his face. It was entirely quiet save the soft, even sound of Haru’s breathing.

Folding his jeans, Rin set them on the floor next to the bed. Haru was curled onto his right side, hair fanning across his pillow. His lashes were dark against the pale skin of his face and Rin reached down, brushing a lock of hair away from Haru’s eyes. He must’ve been so tired, falling asleep in the space of time it took Rin to shower. He realized, suddenly, that he had no idea how Haru really spent his time. How often did he work? Did he eat well? Was he always going to bed at three or four in the morning? Did he paint every day he was off from dancing? What happened if he got sick?

Haru shifted in his sleep, a soft sigh escaping as he stretched out a little, one hand opening and closing against the sheets. Rin smiled softly, curling a bit of black hair around his finger. Leaning forward, he gently kissed the nape of Haru’s neck. “Good night,” Rin whispered. Why did his heart _ache_ so badly? He curled into the bed, draping his arm around Haru’s waist, pulling him close. Rin let his forehead rest in the hollow at the base of Haru’s neck and the quiet sound of his breathing lulled him quickly to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter is LONG. Terribly sorry.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to SpaceRat, as usual, for edits.


	8. no.8

Light streaming through the window hit Rin directly in the face. He scrunched his eyes. What time was it? His right arm tingled and he stretched it a little, wiggling his fingers. They burned and he pulled it back, annoyed.

Somehow he’d managed to worm his arm underneath Haru in his sleep. Their legs wound together, tangled under the sheets, and Rin realized he’d pressed himself as close to Haru as possible. He sighed and shifted. Judging by the sunshine, he needed to get the hell out of Haru’s apartment. Rin scooted away from Haru, trying to edge his arm out from under him without waking him up –

Haru cracked an eye, looking up at him. He looked so _confused_ that Rin cracked a grin without meaning to.

“Sorry,” Rin said.

 

Not replying, Haru rolled back over onto his right side, curling up again. Rin shook his head and went to the bathroom, stretching his shoulders and shaking the pins and needles out of his arm. He splashed water over his face and checked the clock by the bed as he came back. It was already noon! How the hell was Haru still asleep?

 _Was_ he even still asleep? Leaning over, Rin brushed a bit of hair back from Haru’s face. His lashes were incredibly dark against the pale skin of his face, and Haru nuzzled into the pillow, away from Rin’s touch. _Adorable._ Rin slid back under the covers, snuggling up close to him once more. “Hey.”

“… leaving?” Haru’s voice was nearly swallowed by the pillow.

“Hm?” Rin let his chin rest on Haru’s shoulder, pulling them close together. “What?”

Haru turned his head a bit. “I said, are you leaving?”

“I’m off today,” Rin said, “but I have to go swim soon.”

Closing his eyes once more, Haru let out a soft, windy sigh.

 

Really? Nothing? “So,” Rin said. “Bye?” He pressed a kiss to Haru’s bare shoulder, letting his lips linger next to the skin. “Not gonna ask me to skip?”

Squirming around, Haru twisted until they were face to face, winding their legs together again. “Want to?” His finger slid lazily down Rin’s stomach, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Rin shivered, gripping at Haru’s hips and pressing them close. “I –“

Haru kissed him, nipping at his lower lip. Their tongues slid together and Rin shuddered. He became aware, quite suddenly, that they were both very naked. Haru’s skin was hot and if his hand got any lower, Rin didn’t think he’d be able to get out of the apartment.

Possibly ever.

 

“You’re very convincing–“ Rin gasped when Haru writhed against him. “H-Haru, I have to go.” He pushed at Haru’s chest, inching them apart.

In response Haru twisted away, stretching. “Aiming for the Olympics, right?” He yawned. “What time is it?”

“Noon.” Rin pushed himself up, brushing the back of his fingers down the side of Haru’s face. Even half-asleep he was beautiful.

“Okay.” Swatting Rin’s hand away, Haru got out of bed first, digging in his Technicolor closet for a pair of jeans.

Not a morning person, huh? Frowning, Rin pulled his own jeans on and looked around the room. “I think my shirt’s on the stairway…”

 

“You can just wear this one,” Haru said, tossing a shirt to Rin. “Yours probably smells like a bar. I’ll make something for breakfast. Do you have time?”

Picking up the shirt, Rin let it unfold in his hands. “What **is** this?” He stared at the hideous fish print.

Haru stopped at the door. “It’s Northern Stoplight Loosejaw-kun.”

Oh, right, _obviously_. What the fuck? “... I’ll say it again: what the fuck is this creepy horror movie fish?”

“It’s from a game,” Haru said, as if speaking to a child.

“You’re a gamer?” Rin raised an eyebrow.

“Not really. Do you like mackerel?” Haru opened the bedroom door.

Rin laughed. “Whatever.” He waved Haru on. “Go.”

 

The shirt, while ridiculous, was very soft. Rin put it on with his jeans, heading down the stairs after rinsing with Haru’s mouthwash. Haru stood at the stove in an apron and, if Rin wasn’t mistaken, the same _damn_ blue jeans he’d worn to the aquarium. Upon close inspection they clung to his hips in an eye-catching manner and Rin wondered, idly, if he was wearing anything else at all.

“Ah,” he said, and then cleared his throat. “What are you making?”

“Mackerel with miso.”

“Do you eat anything else?”

“And rice,” said Haru.

“Oh, right.” Rin rolled his eyes and rubbed at his hair.

“Don’t hover.“ Haru waved vaguely with a spoon.

 

Rin turned away from him, heading for the back room. It was strangely empty yet full with the pole in the middle and paintings standing around the edges. Soft light poured through a window near the largest, illuminating the canvas. Rin left the doorway to stand in front of the painting, picking out brush strokes in the swirls of paint. The ocean of grey was lit from within with light green, somehow glimmering and vivid. How did Haru _do_ that? It seemed almost alive, and when Rin let his mind wander, he could swear he heard the ocean.

 

Haru’s work was just like the artist himself: complicated. Each time he looked at a painting, Rin found something new. They were filled with subtle transitions of color and faint shadows. Running his eyes over the grey piece again, Rin thought about the first time he saw Haru. The strangely intimate burlesque routines were extensions of his painting, of course. That first dance with the paint and water – how could it have been anything else?

 

Every piece was deeply emotive. Reflected in the heart of the layered paint, Rin could see the same sweet joy he remembered gracing Haru’s face when he’d watched the dolphins. He might even have created it that same day. Rin felt almost dizzy with the idea that something, anything he did could inspire such beauty. Taking in a faint breath, he reached out a hand to the canvas –

 

“Do you like them?” Haru’s voice, from the doorway, was very soft.

Rin jumped a little, startled out of his thoughts. “Jeez – warn a guy, will you?” He turned, noticing the bowl in Haru’s hands.

“You didn’t say you had time,” said Haru. Was that a veiled apology?

Checking his watch, Rin frowned. “I don’t,” he said. He’d have to make up for the lack of a meal later. “I should go. I’ll text you?”

Haru shrugged. “I don’t know where I put my phone.”

“I’ll just show up on your doorstep, then.”

“You mean like last night?” Haru took a bite of his fish.

Rin rolled his eyes. “Bye, Haru.” He pushed past Haru and headed for his shoes, stopping to pull them on. He could not _believe_ he was about to wear this ridiculous shirt out. “I’ll call you.” Rin opened the front door, stepping out before leaning back in. “So _find_ your damn phone, okay?”

 

Rin thought about Haru the entire way home, rubbing the hem of the t-shirt between his fingers. It smelled like him, like lavender soap and fancy shampoo – but even so, it was embarrassing to wear. Why did Haru even have such a stupid-looking shirt? “From a game, my ass,” Rin muttered, pulling it off over his head. He’d have to hurry to make it to practice on time, but he certainly couldn’t go wearing _that_. As Rin brushed his teeth he let his mind wander.

 

Was Haru always grumpy in the morning? How many bizarre shirts did he own? Did he always want to fuck first thing when he woke up? If that was the case, Rin probably ought to stay the night more often…

 

Normal clothing on and bag in hand, Rin headed for the pool. He spent his swimming practice in what felt like _amazing_ form – and beat his best time. He was edging ever closer to the elusive Olympic qualifying time. If he was able to step up his game…

 

It wasn’t until he’d come home from swimming practice and gotten into the shower to rinse the chlorine from his hair that Rin paused to think about what he was doing. Should he _really_ go back to Haru’s place? Rin let his conditioner sink into his hair a little as he weighed his options. On one hand, going back likely promised some pretty amazing sex. On the other, they’d just _had_ pretty amazing sex, and Rin _still_ didn’t want Haru to think that’s all he wanted. Dreaming every night about what he could do with his tongue was not a replacement for spending time together. He still felt like he didn’t really _know_ Haru.

            “You don’t _have_ to sleep with him,” Rin told his reflection as he ran a comb through his wet hair. “He’s probably thinking that’s all you care about…”

 

Maybe he could go back and just… spend time with him. Rin got out of the shower and blowdried his hair, still thinking. They could watch a movie, eat dinner, cuddle… did Haru even _like_ cuddling? Maybe if Rin could keep his cool, they would be able to get to know each other and he could figure that out. And then Haru could fuck him next time, right? It was a great plan. Rin pulled on a grey tank top as he tried to think about things he was good at cooking. Haru’s diet could use a little expansion…

 

            What about a frittata? It was easy yet impressive and really different than Haru’s usual mackerel… Rin shrugged into his black hoodie and went looking for his red high-tops. He scribbled out a quick grocery list onto a scrap of paper leaving his apartment.

 

            Should he bother texting? Haru probably hadn’t even found his phone. Rin tapped out a quick message just in case, shoving his phone into his pocket after sending. No point in waiting for a reply, right? He ambled through a store, picking out vegetables that were on sale. Banking on Haru having a few things in his kitchen, Rin set out for Haru’s apartment with a bag of eggs and various vegetables.

It didn’t take long to collect everything he needed and make his way back to Haru’s apartment. Rin stood in front of the door for a minute, taking deep breaths. He had a plan. All he had to do was stick to The Plan.

            _I will not have sex tonight, I will not have sex tonight, I will not have sex tonight…_

 

            Rin had to knock four times before Haru came to the door. His fingers were stained with a deep blue pigment and his hair fell over one eye. Rin noticed that he was still in _those jeans_ , but at least he’d put a shirt on.

“You’re back,” Haru said.

“Yeah, like we talked about?” Rin closed the door behind him and carefully edged out of his high-tops. “So… I thought I’d make dinner.” No response. “… You didn’t eat yet, did you?”

“I ate this morning.” Haru was already heading for the back room, his voice absent-minded and quiet.

“That was a long time ago!” Rin took his bag to the kitchen and rummaged in cupboards. Setting the eggs and food on the counter, he pulled out whatever vegetable he could find and began to chop some onion. It really didn’t take too long to put everything together, and soon Rin had vegetables cooking in a large pan. As they cooked together, Rin cracked eggs into a bowl. “I hope you eat something besides mackerel once in a while!” Stirring a little cheese into the eggs, he whisked them together before pouring it all over the vegetables. No reply from Haru, of course. Rin popped the frittata into the oven. After washing his hands, he went to find Haru – who was, naturally, in the back.

 

“It’ll be ready fairly soon,” Rin said. Haru was bent over a table, a large white sheet in front of him. Faint washes of color graced the sheet’s edges but much of it looked empty. His hand moved with a wide brush, his face blank.

Rin looked over Haru’s shoulder. It almost looked, honestly, like Haru was painting with nothing. “Uh – are you… are you actually painting, or –“

            Haru touched the slender tip of the brush to the surface and thick, inky blue spread along previously invisible lines, an abstract shape blossoming as it went. “Watercolor,” he said, as if that explained everything. The pigment threaded its way through the water and Rin’s mouth fell open a little as he watched. It was stunningly beautiful. The paint bloomed before his eyes, traveling up to the top corner and flowering down the side.

Haru flicked green into the heart of the blue shape and the paint seemed to bleed along the paper. He let the brush drag along to blur the colors together. Green and blue swirled together and Haru wound a finger through a patch of pigment, his touch light and graceful. No wonder he had such talented hands.

 

            No. Rin was trying to keep his cool, right? The Plan, remember the plan. He really needed to stop thinking about Haru’s hands. _I will not have sex tonight, I will not have sex tonight, I will not have sex tonight._ Rubbing the back of his neck, Rin laughed, embarrassed. “You’ll take a break to eat, right?”

            “Mm.” Tilting his head to the side, Haru ran his eyes over the painting. He moved to the side, leaning over to reach his palette.

           

            Sticking to The Plan, Rin left Haru to paint and checked on the food. It wouldn’t be much longer – Rin looked around for utensils and plates, setting things out _just so_. It didn’t matter if he was a little meticulous, right? Haru wasn’t watching him, anyway.

When he took the frittata out of the oven, Rin cut it into exactly equal, perfectly proportioned slices. Which, to be honest, was quite satisfying. After arranging slices on plates and complementing them with grapes, Rin stood back to look at his handiwork. It looked… pretty awesome, if he did say so himself. Hopefully Haru would be reasonably impressed.

 

            Speaking of… “Haru!” Rin turned one of plates _just_ a bit, trying to make it a little more attractive. Was the corner of this wedge uneven? Ugh, he should’ve –

            Haru appeared quite suddenly, hands splattered with teal. “What?”

            Rin jerked and the plate shoved over, clinking against another dish. “I made dinner,” he said, laughing a little. “Uh… D’you wanna watch a movie or something?”

            Haru sighed, walking to the sink after waving a hand in the direction of his television. “I don’t care.”

 

Rin wandered to the shelving next to the TV and ran his finger along the DVD spines, tipping one out. “Spider Baby?” The cover featured a young woman holding a knife. Definitely _not._ Rin pushed the DVD back. “You have really weird movies, Haru.” His eyes skipped over several titles. Zombie Strippers? Really? “… Is there _anything_ besides horror in here?” He was going to have nightmares.

“Spider Baby is a classic,” Haru said from the kitchen, “and I _like_ horror movies.”

“Okay,” said Rin, a sinking feeling in his stomach, “then we’ll watch… Rosemary’s Baby, I guess.”

 

“It’s good.” Haru sat down on the sofa next to him, looking at their plates. “What is this?”

“Frittata. I learned to make it in Australia.” Rin gave Haru’s plate a little push. “I hope you like it.”

“Australia?”

“I went to school there for a while.” Rin waited as Haru picked up his plate, poking at the wedge of egg-and-vegetable. What if he hated it? Shit, what if he was allergic to eggs? What if –

Haru took a bite.

Staring at his mouth as he chewed, Rin tried to decipher any emotion. Haru’s face remained placid. “...Well?”

“It would be better with mackerel,” said Haru.

Groaning, Rin let his head drop back again the sofa. “Seriously? What a dick thing to sa—“

Haru nudged Rin with his foot. “I was messing with you?”

“Oh.” Then… he liked it? Rin’s mouth curved in a wide smile. Haru liked his cooking! He wasn’t allergic to eggs!

“Start the movie,” Haru said.

 

Rin pushed play on the DVD and soon the credits were rolling. The movie seemed like it was pretty old, but if Haru liked it… well, he could afford to watch a scary movie once in a while. Maybe it wouldn’t even be that scary! Rin bolted his own serving down quickly, starving after an afternoon of swimming.

Haru ate quietly next to him, clearing his plate. Rin noted that none was left, and before Rin could move, Haru took both their dishes to the sink. When he returned he curled up _very_ close to Rin, brushing his fingers along Rin’s thigh.

Biting his lip, Rin moved just enough to stop the gentle touching. Obviously Haru thought he was just here for sex, again. Despite his best efforts otherwise, Rin scooted closer to Haru on the sofa as the movie wore on, thoughts of creepy neighbors and their talisman necklaces sending a little shiver down his spine. Why did people like these kinds of movies? Haru’s skin was warm and comforting and Rin leaned into him, hoping he didn’t look _too_ pathetic. As the credits rolled, Rin turned his head to give an opinion of the film –

 

Haru kissed him, sliding his hand along the back of Rin’s head. Rin gasped as he felt gentle fingers exploring beneath the edge of his tank top. Sliding their tongues together, Haru wound an arm around him.

This was _not_ going as planned. But – Haru was just so _hot_ and his fingers were _soft_ and – and Rin really, really wanted to stay the night again. His skin burned where Haru’s thumb brushed across his stomach. He had to stop this.

“Let’s – let’s watch something else,” Rin panted, pressing his hand against Haru’s chest. “C’mon.” _I will not have sex tonight, I will not have sex tonight, I will not have sex –_ wait, did he just say that **aloud**?

“O… kay.” Haru pulled back, running a hand through his own hair. He took a deep drink from his water glass.

 

Pushing himself up off the sofa, Rin swapped the DVD for another titled The Omen and sat back down, this time farther away. His face was on _fire_. Pressing a hand to his cheek, Rin sighed. Haru watched him, saying nothing. Rin forced himself to take slow, deep breaths as the movie started.

Halfway through Rin couldn’t decide which film was creepier. He scooted closer to Haru again, eyes wide. Antichrist sons of Satan and jackals? Didn’t Haru have any _happy_ movies? Rin shivered and Haru slid an arm around his shoulders.

“You’re not going to have nightmares, are you?”

“No!” Rin swallowed.

“Not into horror movies, huh?”

Rin jumped as a dog barked on the screen. “Not really.”

 

Haru glanced at him for a moment before looking back at the television. “Rin?”

“What?”

“Do you only like me when I’m working?”

Rin felt his mouth drop open a little as he stared at Haru, scary movie entirely forgotten. “W—no! What are you _talking_ about?” How on earth could Haru have gotten that impression? Wasn’t it obvious?

Haru repeated his question.

“I made you dinner,” Rin said. “I asked you to the aquarium.” God, he was really stupid, wasn’t he? He’d wanted to make sure Haru didn’t think he only wanted sex, and somehow he’d managed… what, the exact opposite? Rin groaned, leaning away from Haru and scrubbing viciously at the back of his head.

“You did,” said Haru, “but you’ve spent all evening trying to avoid touching me unless you were too scared to think about it.”

“I just – I didn’t want to—” Rin said, stumbling a little over the words. “I just wanted to spend some time with you?“

 

“You want to be my friend,” said Haru.

“Yeah,” Rin paused as Haru frowned. “No.”

“No?” Haru raised a single brow.

“Not exactly. I mean – _yes_ , I want to get to know you and I want to be your friend, but I don’t –“

“This is kind of confusing.” Leaning forward, Haru grazed his lips across Rin’s cheek in a soft, sweet kiss.

A shiver ran down Rin’s spine. Curving into Haru’s touch was inevitable, responding to his kiss already second nature. Rin tried to take advantage of his next breath, one hand curling against Haru’s neck. “I’m trying to say that I don’t want to be _just_ your friend, or—“

Haru kissed him again, drawing fingers along his jaw. It was so tender and perfect it made Rin’s eyes burn. Was he just imagining it because that’s what he really wanted?

 

Rin broke the kiss. “… or just your friend you sleep with sometimes, and—“

“I don’t want that, either.” Haru’s skin was so _close,_ his hand so gentle.

No? “So –“

“So I’ll take you out to dinner,” Haru offered. He pressed a kiss to Rin’s throat, murmuring against the skin. “… To a nice place, right?”

The last of his resistance crumbled. “Ah –“ Rin wound his fingers into Haru’s hair. “O—okay. That sounds fine.”

“Fine.” The edge of Haru’s teeth nipped at Rin’s skin, unfurling warmth in his stomach. This time, when Haru slid a hand under Rin’s shirt, he didn’t push away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't be bothered with the formatting, not sure why AO3 does the spacing all weird -- sorry! As always, thanks to the lovely scientist, SpaceRat.
> 
> Spider Baby is a 1964 black comedy horror film, written and directed by Jack Hill. Haru is correct -- it is a cult classic.
> 
> Rosemary's Baby is a 1968 American psychological horror film written and directed by Roman Polanski, based on the bestselling 1967 novel Rosemary's Baby by Ira Levin. There is a two-part remake that aired in May of 2014. The author can't speak for how well it was done.
> 
> Sorry for the lack of porn. Can't always have porn. It is possible we'll reach a conclusion in the near future...


	9. no.9

The following two weeks were a blur of dinners and movies, a tangle of limbs and sheets. Rin found he almost always stayed the night with Haru – it felt _right_ , somehow, curling up in bed with him at the end of a day. Rin spent the nights Haru worked at the club elsewhere, sleeping in his own bed and doing his best not to think about it.

It seemed that the longer he went without seeing Haru dance, the less it upset him. Rin knew that Haru enjoyed his dancing, but he couldn’t help the twinges of jealousy he felt if he thought too much about it. Perhaps Rei was right about staying away – but in that case, would he _ever_ really feel like seeing Haru perform again?

Between work and swimming, he managed to stay occupied – trying to shorten his times meant a lot of extra work. Rin read books on swimming theory and re-tooled his workout regimen, trying to come up with the best routine to help shave seconds off his best time. In fact, Rin was so busy with swimming that he’d almost forgotten about Haru’s offer of dinner. When his phone chirped and it showed Haru’s number, he raised an eyebrow. Texting _first_? That was a new one.

 _I’d like to take you out to dinner_ , the text read. _How’s Friday night? I’ve made a reservation at Blue Moon. I’ll pick you up around 7._

This had to be the longest text message Rin ever received from Haru. Hell, maybe the longest text message of Haru’s entire **life**. Grinning, Rin waited for a minute as he tried to figure out the coolest way to reply. Finally settling on ‘Blue Moon? Is this a black tie occasion?’ and a cute smiley face, he accepted the invitation.

Ah, shit. What was he going to wear?

Rin spent the following two days going through his closet trying to decide on an outfit. He had to look _good_. Standing in front of the mirror, he tugged at the hem of his black suit jacket. Haru had specified a ‘nice place’ and Rin assumed that meant he probably ought to wear a suit. But… he sighed. The suit was _boring_. He didn’t want to look boring or conservative. He wanted to look _hot_. Sexy. Haru had seen his suit at the art gallery, anyway.

Shrugging out of the jacket, Rin rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He could find a way to look nice without looking stuffy. Running a hand through his hair he picked through his closet, coming out with a black vest.

He pulled his hair back into a small ponytail, letting the front fall around his face. Messy, but put together. Yeah, this was already looking better. Unbuttoning the top few buttons, Rin frowned at his reflection. Still missing something, wasn’t it?

Rin slid a red bolo tie around his neck, tilting his head to the right. Mmmm…. Not quite. It wasn’t really classy date material, was it? Taking hold of the slim silver medallion, he slid it off and set it on his bedside table. He tied the red strings into a knotted bow and stood back to re-inspect.

Much better.

Checking his watch, Rin realized he still had an entire _hour_ before Haru would arrive. He brushed his teeth and attempted to read through a swimming magazine, but his leg kept bouncing and his eyes wandered constantly to the clock. How could time move so slowly? It should be _impossible_ for a minute to last so long!

Three minutes later Rin threw himself off the sofa, switching on his favorite Foreigner album. It was easy to distract himself with some sick air guitar, the volume on the stereo turned up _way_ louder than was strictly necessary, and Rin didn’t hear the door buzz when Haru arrived. As the CD moved on to his favorite song, Rin sang along loudly. A sharp rap at the door caught his attention during the chorus of ‘Hot Blooded’ and Rin immediately spun the volume dial, face flooding with heat.

He opened the door as quickly as possible, blowing a piece of hair off his face. Haru stood in front of him, a tiny smile skirting around his mouth. “Am I interrupting something?” he asked.

“No,” said Rin, “I was just–“ he swallowed. _I was just_ what? Dancing around like an idiot in my apartment?

God, Haru looked _incredible._ He was dressed in a steel grey three-piece suit, one hand lazily in a pocket. Even the sheen of the fabric looked expensive, and the trousers fit like they were made for him. The pale blue shirt was perfect with his eyes and his tie –

He was staring. He had to get a grip. “I was just killing time,” Rin said.

Haru flipped a bit of hair out of his eyes.

“I know we have a reservation.” Rin cleared his throat. “Let me just –“ he ducked back inside, shoving on shoes and flipping off electronics. How fucking _embarrassing_ could he get?

“… Was that _Foreigner_?” Haru’s voice echoed in the empty hallway.

“No!” Of course it was fucking Foreigner, Jesus! Rin was never going to live that down now, was he? He locked his door, definitely **not** looking at Haru.

As usual, Haru didn’t seem inclined to say much of anything beyond directing Rin where to go. His own thoughts were consuming as it was, cheeks still faintly burning from the musical fiasco.

What if Haru had heard him _singing_? Should he bring it up? No. It was better not to say anything, right? He should –

“Rin,” Haru said, “where are you going?”

Blinking, Rin turned around. Haru had turned a corner without him and come back, looking around with a vaguely confused tilt of the eyebrow. “Uh… sorry.” Rin rubbed the back of his neck and rejoined Haru, shoving his hands into his pockets. His face felt like it was on _fire_.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!”

“No fever?”

Oh god. Here it was – next Haru was going to ask if it was close to a hundred and three degrees and Rin was going to _die_. He wanted to melt into the pavement, but settled for walking a step and a half behind Haru.

Rin let his eyes wander over Haru’s form, perfect in that suit. _God_ that thing was like magic, wasn’t it? He just wanted to slide his hands under that jacket and –

Haru was looking at him. Rin swallowed and flicked his eyes away. He sighed softly as no more mention of the music was made. Maybe Haru was just being gracious and letting it go?

“It’s just here.” Haru’s voice interrupted Rin’s thoughts.

As they stepped in, Rin felt the gentle guiding pressure of a hand at the small of his back. It was a small gesture, fleeting and simple, but it sparked along his skin nevertheless.

Rin tried not to look _too_ impressed – but it was obviously an expensive place. A man stood at a podium in front, and a candle flickered softly in the middle of each table beyond him. It had the air of quiet, intimate conversation.

Rin grinned, ignoring the fluttering in his stomach. “How roman—“

“Nanase,” Haru said to the maître d, confirming their reservation. Rin let out a soft breath and followed him to their table, soft jazz by a live pianist filtering into his hearing.

Rin’s ears heated with another blush as Haru pulled his seat out for him. He sat quickly, flicking a bit of hair out of his face. Haru sat across from him, leaning his chin in his hand. His eyes were soft in the candlelight.

Rin glanced at the pianist. He looked vaguely familiar. Broad shoulders, fluffy hair… Wait, was that – “Hey, that’s your friend playing the piano, isn’t it?”

“Yes…” Haru looked to the side, hair falling over an eye. Was he embarrassed? That _almost_ looked like a faint flush to his cheek…

How adorable. Rin laughed. “You think we need a chaperone?”

Haru raised a brow. “ _You_ seem to,” he said.

Rin almost choked on his water. “I—I do _not_!” Coughing, he set his glass down.

“You do,” Haru said, “but it’s all right. It’s kind of cute.”

Why? Why did Rin like this guy? “You’re such an asshole,” he hissed.

“Am I?”

“Yes!”

“Even though I brought you to the nicest place I could think of?”

Great, now _Rin_ felt kind of like an asshole. The nicest place he could think of? Seriously? “Oh.” He toyed with his water glass for a moment, ordering a glass of wine when Haru ordered his usual gin. “Well, it **is** really nice…”

“You look really nice,” Haru said, and something about the warmth in his voice brought the heat of a blush to Rin’s face.

“Thank you. You… look amazing.” Like fucking _always_. Rin leaned back in his chair.

After ordering their food they sat in silence for a few minutes, the music washing over them. Haru sipped from his drink in an elegant manner, his fingers gentle on the glass. Rin was simply incapable of thinking about Haru’s fingers without imagining a million other places they could be – all of them involving him. That _suit_ was incredible and Rin kept thinking about all the myriad creative ways Haru could probably take it off for him…

Rin cleared his throat. “You know, your friend is actually pretty good.”

Haru smiled. “Makoto is very talented,” he said.

“You’re more talented,” said Rin.

Haru laughed. He laughed and god, he was an _angel_ , and Rin swore to himself to learn to be funny so he could see it all the time. Leaning his chin in his hand, Rin nudged their feet together under the table.

“Tell me about your week,” he said.

Haru’s face colored with a genuine, _perfect_ blush. Had Rin ever seen him blush before? Surely he would’ve remembered it if he had. “I’d rather hear about yours.”

Grinning, Rin told him about how swimming was going and about the new baby penguins at the aquarium. That beautiful smile stayed on Haru’s face when he talked about the aquarium, so Rin made a concentrated effort to think of as many cute animal stories as possible. If only he actually, you know… _worked_ with any animals. Customer stories? Not nearly as cute.

“When’s your next… uh, exhibit?”

The corner of Haru’s mouth twitched. “I have a gallery opening slated for the fall,” he said. A faint flicker of a smile crossed his face for a moment as he looked away.

“Did I say something wrong?” Rin frowned. Somehow, Haru was laughing at him…

“No,” said Haru, bringing his eyes back to Rin’s face.

“What kind of gallery?”

“I don’t know yet.” Haru shrugged. He sipped from his glass, letting out an idle sigh.

How could he just _not know_? Rin blinked. “Uh – don’t you have to, I don’t know… commit to something?”

That faint quirk came back to the corner of Haru’s mouth. “Curious about whether or not I can commit, are we?”

“I wasn’t trying to imply anything,” Rin said quickly, trying to will away another blush.

He learned more about Haru in one night than he had over more than a month of time spent with him. A Chopin song reminded Haru of his grandmother, now deceased. He found waterfalls to be among the most beautiful sights in nature, but difficult to paint. Haru preferred to express himself through paint and dancing, but was also a photographer. They spent over two hours at the restaurant just _talking_ – about Rin’s dreams, about how his dad died, about Haru’s parents. Haru wound their fingers together under the table, stroking his thumb across the back of Rin’s hand, and the softness of the touch made him want to cry.

The bill came and Haru slid it across the table, eyes flitting over the paper.

“Here,” Rin said, “I’ll –“

The look on Haru’s face paused him mid-sentence. _Or not_ …

Haru gracefully said nothing else, paying quietly and finishing his drink. Rin shifted in his chair.

“I’ll take you home,” said Haru.

Oh. But – “Okay…” Did Haru think he didn’t want to go home with him? Rin had assumed that they’d – not that they _had_ to, but – but Rin wanted _more_. He wanted to stay with Haru, drag his fingers through his hair, fall asleep together and wake up together and cook him breakfast.

Rin headed for the door, stepping outside before realizing that Haru had stopped for a moment. When he rejoined him, they walked in silence for a few blocks as Rin tried to figure out how to tell Haru he didn’t want their date to end so soon. How could he say that he wanted Haru to come home with him without, you know, saying it outright? It was too embarrassing!

They sat on the subway, not touching.

Had the date gone wrong without Rin noticing? Haru followed him out of the subway car and onto the street, but as they approached Rin’s building, he still wasn’t talking. Maybe Rin talked too much over dinner? Maybe he’d missed some really _fucking_ subtle sign? Weren’t they on the same page?

“So,” Rin said, as they stopped in front of his door. “I guess this is me…” He opened the door. “I had a nice –“

Haru pushed them both through the door. As it clicked closed behind them, warm arms slid around Rin’s waist. “I had a nice time,” Haru murmured, lips just next to Rin’s ear.

A shiver ran down Rin’s spine. “I, um –“

Haru kissed him, and Rin remembered that he didn’t like talking.

The lock clicked, a faint sound in the dark. Haru’s teeth nipped against the skin just below Rin’s ear, sending a frisson of excitement rolling down his spine.

Rin took a halting breath, placing the palm of his hand against Haru’s chest. “W—come on,” he said, “not right _here_ –“

Haru smiled the beautiful half-smile that always gave Rin butterflies, lifting Rin’s hand to press a kiss into his palm. “All right.”

Stepping away, Haru lined his shoes up as if nothing else were happening before moving into the living room. Following him was easy – Rin rid himself of his shoes, lining them up neatly next to Haru’s. A faint flush of embarrassment warmed the back of his neck. Would Haru think his apartment was weird? He wouldn’t, right? Rin wound a piece of hair around his index finger for a moment as Haru paused in front of the stereo.

 _Please don’t look at all my CDs_. “I like a lot of different stuff,” Rin said, trying to dismiss the disparity between his greatest hits Marilyn Manson album and the well-worn Joni Mitchell CDs on the bottom shelf. “You know, just –“

Haru turned around, sliding long fingers along the back of Rin’s neck, pulling him in to a hot, open-mouthed kiss. “I don’t care,” he murmured as they parted, “about your weird CDs.”

Breathless, Rin stared at him for a moment. “But –“

“ _Rin_.” Trailing a finger down the side of Rin’s neck, Haru shook his head. “Stop.” He was entranced with Rin’s necktie, twirling the string around his fingers to pull Rin closer. He tasted like gin and lime, clean and herbal. Rin slipped his hands inside Haru’s suit jacket, the lining silky and hot against his skin. It fell easily to the floor as they stepped away from it and Rin pressed shaking hands to Haru’s sides.

Working on tiny shirt buttons while walking backwards was a little harder than Rin realized – usually Haru was just wearing clothes he could pull off over his head! Swearing, he had to stop moving to try and undo the shirt buttons. “Fucking – why are these so _small_?!”

Haru’s faint laugh brought a hot blush to the back of Rin’s neck. “Need me to help you?”

“ _No_!” Rin wriggled the shirt upwards, giving up on all the buttons.

Haru’s shirt ended up crumpled along the hallway to Rin’s bedroom, dropped as he pushed Rin’s back against the wall, tangled their legs together. His breath was hot against Rin’s skin as he dropped the vest, then the shirt, to the floor. Anticipation tingled along Rin’s spine, a sweet roll of heat all the way down to his hands, and he shivered, curling fingers into Haru’s glossy hair.

Haru walked him backwards towards his bed and thank _god_ Rin kept a meticulously neat apartment. The lamp by the bed glowed softly, casting light over the two of them but mostly Haru, his skin perfectly luminous. Haru ran a finger along Rin’s collarbone, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the skin. “Rin,” he murmured, so softly that Rin could barely hear him, “you’re beautiful.”

Beautiful?

Haru’s mouth moved lower and lower and Rin found himself biting his fist, trying his best to remain quiet. _Haru didn’t like talking, he didn’t like talking –_

His knees were shaking, entire body flushed with heat. Haru’s tongue thrust into him, one gentle hand pressing against his thigh, pushing it back. He was humming faintly, the sound vibrating against Rin’s skin and setting off fireworks on the insides of his eyelids. Rin slid one hand down, gripping at the sheets as Haru pushed another finger into him, pressing against him in a way that made him want to _scream_.

God, but he wanted more than this. Rin thought for a moment he was biting his fist so hard he could taste blood, metallic and salty. “H-Haru, I –“ Haru’s tongue twisted inside him, slick and insistent, and he shuddered, whimpering. Haru teased him, every touch slow, his mouth achingly hot. “Please,” Rin gasped, and the pressure of Haru’s hand left his thigh.

Haru’s arm wound around him, fingers sliding along his jaw as he answered the summons. “All right,” he murmured, voice like velvet next to Rin’s ear, pressing their bodies close. This time Rin heard the soft catch of breath as Haru pushed into him and it almost, _almost_ sounded like his name. Haru nuzzled his neck and Rin’s eyes burned with tears. Curling an arm around Haru’s neck, Rin wished they’d turned the lamp off.

Everything was different this time. Rin felt like all his nerves were on fire, lit up with the sinuous, sweet rhythm building between them. Haru pressed a hand to his face, brushing over the curve of Rin’s cheek, touching him as if he were glass. The brush of Haru’s eyelashes against his nose was soft while his kisses were searing, the movement of his hips deliberate and slow. It was precious and perfect and Rin arched against him, winding their bodies together. They’d never been this close, this _intimate_. Haru pressed their foreheads together and for a moment their eyes met in the dark.

Haru’s hand between them slid over him with what felt like reverence. His touch was tender and deliberate, as if he were making art. Rin gasped and the sound was returned, and it occurred to him that he’d never really heard Haru make any sound. He wanted to hear _more_ , craved those tiny moans and soft huffs of air.

 _Please say my name again._ His name sounded so different when Haru said it, so special. Haru kissed him, leaning into his touch, and Rin tightened his thighs around him. It wasn’t supposed to be like this – he wasn’t supposed to feel like this, not so soon. But he did and he knew it, and he was scared in the middle of everything.

Rin barely managed to hold back his own sound as he came, and it was only the barest moment after that Haru kissed him before burying his face in Rin’s shoulder, body shuddering.

When Haru pulled away to lie beside him, Rin caught at his hand. It wasn’t much of a stretch to pull it to his chest, circling Haru’s arm around him. The heat in Haru’s breath stirred his hair, and Rin smiled, closing his eyes. Their breathing was the only sound in the room, quiet and still.

“Was it… not as good this time?” Haru’s voice came to him, hesitant in the dark.

What? “Huh?” Rin twisted around, bringing them face-to-face. “What are you talking about?”

Haru flicked his eyes to the left, avoiding looking at his face. “You were just… really quiet, that’s all.”

“Well, I –“ What the fuck?! Here he’d been trying to do something Haru always said he wanted, and now he thought it meant he didn’t enjoy himself? “You don’t like talking! You always say that, ‘Rin, I don’t like talking’!”

“You were trying to be quiet for me?”

“What, are you stupid?” Rin hunched his shoulders.

Letting out a huff of air that almost sounded like laughing, Haru ruffled Rin’s hair. “Right. For future reference, I… decided I don’t mind talking, if it’s you.” He pressed a kiss to Rin’s shoulder before.

Tucking his head under Haru’s chin, Rin held his breath for a moment, just listening to Haru’s heartbeat. His chest felt tight, overwhelmed with the sea-and-sand smell of him, the heat of his breath stirring Rin’s hair. The sudden knowledge of how deeply Haru’s presence affected him should have been sobering, but somehow it just felt… normal.

The warmth of Haru’s skin against his was like a lullaby. Rin was just starting to doze off, Haru’s thumb stroking a rhythmic pattern in his hair, when Haru’s phone rang. Rin rolled over, annoyed by the insistent jingle – “Is that your phone?” Wasn’t Haru’s phone always in his apartment?

“Nnngh.” Haru picked it up, glancing at the screen. His eyes widened and he slid it open immediately, taking the call. Rin felt the bed shift as Haru stood.

“Makoto?”

Rin sighed, sitting up on one elbow. Haru glanced at him and turned away, leaning against the wall. Moonlight silvered his skin, darkening his hair and outlining every shadow. His words were soft, his voice a hushed, private tone.

Rin still managed to pick out a few things, like “where are you” and “no, it’s fine.” The realization that an interruption was fine hit him like cold water, dousing the warmth he’d been so content to bask in.

Sitting up, Rin sighed and rubbed at his face. As Haru hung up the phone and turned around, Rin lifted an eyebrow. Maybe he ought to go take a shower.

“I’m sorry,” Haru said, sitting next to him. He slid a hand up Rin’s arm, frowning when he received no response.

Rin blew a strand of hair out of his face. “Look,” he said, after a moment of silence stretched between them, “if you don’t wanna do this with me, that’s fine. But I thought, you know… “

“It was a serious call, Rin.”

“This is a really casual thing for you,” Rin said. He’d thought the date was really _intimate_ and Haru had seemed so _different_ before; ardent yet tender, touching Rin as if he were glass. He hadn’t realized how badly he craved that feeling, how beautiful and deeply painful it could be. “Isn’t it?” He swallowed. “I’m really bad at being casual.”

“Makoto’s in N.A.,” Haru said, cutting him off. “Okay? He calls me when he’s having a hard time.”

“N.A.?” Rin blinked.

“Narcotics Anonymous.” Haru sighed and leaned against the headboard, looking up at the ceiling. “I guess not so anonymous, now...”

Narcotics? Running a hand through his hair, Rin shook his head. “What are you even saying to me right now?”

“A while ago,” Haru said, “I, um. Well, okay. Makoto’s been my friend since we were little. And a while ago I noticed that he was… different. And I figured out that he had a problem –“

“Are you saying your best friend is a heroin addict or something?”

“No. Just, you know. Pills.” Haru waved a hand, still looking at the ceiling. “Pain medication, Xanax. Stuff like that.”

“Shit,” said Rin. Why was he such an insufferable asshole? And why was Haru such a nice _fucking_ guy, huh? “I’m sorry, I didn’t –“

“I know it’s not my job, but I try to be there for him,” Haru said, “that’s all.”

“Well, yeah, I’d imagine you’d have to…”

“And he knew I was with you, it’s just – I told him to call his sponsor.” Haru turned his head, looking at Rin.

“Is that okay?”

Haru shrugged. “He should’ve called him to begin with.”

What should he say? What was anyone supposed to say to something like that? Rin bit his lower lip. He reached out, brushing the edge of Haru’s hair back. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s all right.” Haru wound an arm around Rin’s shoulders and pulled them both down, flipping the sheets up over their heads after ticking the lamp off. “Come on. Weren’t we doing something like this?”

Rin twisted around. He wanted to be the little spoon. “Yeah, something like this.”

Haru’s lips gently brushed his neck. “It’s exactly how I thought it would be,” he said, exerting gentle pressure on Rin’s hip. “Come back.”

Squirming back around to face Haru, Rin blew hair out of his face. “What is?”

“Your apartment.” Haru ran the back of knuckles along Rin’s cheekbone, their skin barely touching.

Rin sucked in a short breath. “You thought about what my apartment would be like?”

Haru’s eyes, luminous in the dark, curved with a smile. “I always think about you,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marilyn Manson's greatest hits album is titled "Lest We Forget".
> 
> "Double Vision" is the second studio album by British/American rock band Foreigner, released in 1978 -- this is the album "Hot Blooded" is on, one of the band's major hits.
> 
> Joni Mitchell is a Canadian musician, singer songwriter, and painter. Rin probably owns every album by her, but his favorite is the album "Blue".
> 
> It's important to note that addiction is a disease, just like heart failure or diabetes, not a character flaw.
> 
> Sorry for the formatting errors this time. >_> Pushed a wrong button and had to re-upload this chapter and it _still_ looks a little wonky, doesn't it?
> 
> Last but not least, thanks to SpaceRat.


	10. no. 10

 

Rin’s phone jingled with a cryptic text message, requesting he come to Haru’s apartment after swim practice. They’d planned to spend this week apart due to Haru’s time commitments with his art gallery – he’d been so busy setting it up that he hadn’t even been dancing. He’d been mysterious and secretive, even more than usual, regarding the exhibit. Rin hadn’t seen a single work intended for it, and Haru had insisted on them going to Rin’s place for months.

Leaving the aquarium, Rin headed for Haru’s apartment. Maybe the whole secrecy thing was over. Haru could be strangely romantic sometimes. Maybe he’d cooked dinner! Rin took the stairs two at a time, a sense of excitement filling him the closer he got to Haru’s place.

 Haru met him at the door, ushering him out instead of in. “I want to show you something,” he said.

“Um,” said Rin, “okay, but –“ He’d only just arrived! Weren’t they going to at least eat something? He took a quick step back.

“You know the gallery opens next week.” Haru locked his door. “I want you to see it.”

Well, _yeah_. “I said I would come to the opening.” What was going _on_? They’d talked about this a week ago! Rin had asked off and everything.

“I want you to see it _now_ ,” Haru said.

“O—kay.” Rin let the word draw out as they walked. This was weird, even for Haru. It took a little while to reach the art gallery, and any question Rin tried to ask was met with a cool look and silence.

It was annoying.

As they finally reached door, Rin noticed the sign. _Stella Maris_ , Nanase Haruka. Didn’t Haru always use numerical titles? “Why –“

“Star of the sea,” Haru said. He unlocked the door and ushered Rin in, closing it after them.

That didn’t answer Rin’s question.

Haru turned to the left, opening an arm wide and gesturing at the paintings. “It’s ready. Go ahead.”

Rin picked his way along the wall, taking in every piece. All of them were numbered, just like the last time, though they didn’t seem to be placed in any numerical order. No. 13 was an inky, gelatinous black, speckled with faint grey marks. No. 27 looked like a filmy ocean wave, glimmering in the light.

Haru followed Rin through the room, one or two steps behind. He didn’t say a single word. The lights dimmed as Rin walked further in, and the paintings were steadily illuminated with small bulbs, either above or below. Many of the works had metallic paint in them, something Rin hadn’t seen Haru use much of. “They’re beautiful,” Rin said.

“They’re yours,” said Haru.

“What?” Rin turned to look over his shoulder, where Haru stood, two steps back.

“They’re all yours,” he repeated.

Rin’s eyes fell on the last painting down the corridor, placed in the darkest corner.

It was easily the most beautiful painting in the room, done not on canvas but on a pane of glass. Faint gold light shone through navy paint, illuminating brush strokes. It had an ethereal quality, fading to burgundy along the bottom edge. Of all the paintings in the exhibit, only this one had a non-numbered title.

‘All That Separated Us Was Time’. Rin ran a gentle finger along the placard, tracing the English title. The bottom edge of the glass was the exact same color as his hair. “Haru…”

“Yes?” Haru’s voice was very soft, velvet in the dark.

“I love you, too,” said Rin.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "We were written in the stars, my love, all that separated us was time." – unknown
> 
> Stella Maris does indeed mean “Star of the Sea” in Latin – but it can also be used to refer to Polaris. You may know Polaris as the North Star, sometimes called the Guiding star. Shakespeare's sonnet 116 is an example of the symbolism of the north star as a guiding principle: "[Love] is the star to every wandering bark / Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken."
> 
> This was never supposed to be a multi-chapter drawn out affair. The idea arose from a chat with fencer-x and somehow became this monstrosity. I didn't want to leave it unfinished, and so while this is a short ending, I felt I'd held off long enough. Thank you SpaceRat for your time, your edits, and your friendship.
> 
> And thank you, dear reader. I hope you’ve enjoyed this mess.


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